The Legend of Ganon
by Sasha Wren
Summary: We all know the villain of Ocarina of Time - but how did the King of Thieves become the herald of darkness? Ganondorf has ambition, and finds himself in the most advantageous position of the Hyrulean Civil War. He has to either conquer the darkness inside him, or use his power for evil. OoT retelling, with extra! Image by Will2Link on dA
1. Prologue

Welcome to the Legend of Ganondorf 2.0! This story is getting a massive overhaul, so why not give it a new home as well? For any new readers, this is an extended-universe retelling of Ocarina of Time, spanning from Ganondorf's birth to his defeat by the hero. I incorporate a lot of information from different games, trying my best to follow the official Zelda timeline. Several terms and characters are my own, while others belong to Nintendo.

Quick shout-out to WhimsicalAcumen, who has generously offered to beta-read this story regardless of Zelda knowledge. Give them some love!

Disclaimer: MY IDEAS ARE BY NO MEANS CANON. Simply my imagination at work. Enjoy!

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Ildrin gazed down at the tiny bundle held firmly in King Daltus' arms with a tight-lipped smile. The baby wasn't squirming or putting up any fuss, eyes closed off to the world around them. And as happy as Ildrin felt concerning the birth of the new princess, she knew her joy was a result of her own baby boy left safely behind at her estate not far beyond the city walls. As much as she trusted her midwife and faithful servant Lanna, she hadn't wanted to leave him. But Cedric told her it would be disrespectful to not join him at the princess' private viewing, especially when her presence was requested by the Queen. So Ildrin let Lanna tighten a stiff corset around her torso and drape a gown of pale lavender over her body. Purple was, after all, the Queen's favorite color.

So as Ildrin stood to Cedric's left, watching the proud King cradle his newborn daughter in his large, thick arms, she thought of her own boy, and how it felt to hold him against her breast. She knew how the King felt, but also knew how Queen Petra felt as she stood rigidly behind her husband, gazing intently at her baby girl. She could not hold her child at this moment, just as Ildrin could not hold hers.

Cedric stepped up to the King and bent to one knee, ducking his head in a respectful bow.

"Cedric," said King Daltus, a warm smile curling beneath his thick brown mustache. "How wonderful of you to join us."

Cedric stood and turned his eyes to the princess. "She's lovely, sire."

The King muttered his thanks, and Ildrin took the time to step up and lift her dress's hem in a bow. It was customary for the wives of invitees to move second to their husbands. Ildrin often wondered how the traditions that put women second to men came about, considering the significance placed upon a female heir to the throne. But she'd never spoken to anyone of her thoughts, not even Lanna. She dipped her head toward the Queen.

"Lady Ildrin," said the tall woman, straight brown hair tucked behind delicately pointed ears. She was wearing a gown of purple and silver, and a thin gold tiara rested lightly atop her forehead. "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, my queen," said Ildrin. "From one mother to another, I give you my most sincere congratulations."

"Ah, yes," King Daltus said, turning to Cedric again. "You have recently become a father yourself, haven't you?"

"That is correct, sire," Cedric said, his own green eyes shining with an indescribable amount of joy and pride. "A healthy boy."

"Wonderful," said Daltus. "It must be quite a prosperous season."

"Hopefully it will last," said Petra. Ildrin cast a long glance at her, blue eyes widened slightly beneath her golden-yellow eyebrows. The Queen's tone was hopeful, but with a hint of somberness that made Ildrin's heartbeat quicken. It was no secret, however, that the Royal Family had plenty on their minds despite the wonderful news of a female heir. It was a difficult time for everyone who stood there beneath the high ceiling of the castle's parlor. The heavy pall of tension hung over their heads, dragged relentlessly at the smiles on their faces. It was one of the main reasons why Ildrin did not want to leave her son back in the manor while they spent the evening in the castle. And as Petra said her words, Ildrin knew in that moment that despite all gallant appearances and joy-filled conversations, the regal Queen was just as frightened as she was.

"Let's not have that kind of talk, dear," King Daltus said, looking down at his daughter with warm blue eyes. Every direct descendant of the first members of the Royal Family had vivid blue eyes, no matter what other features they displayed. They contrasted the pale brown of Petra's, who once belonged to a house of nobility in the distant city of Farheln. She was Hylian, though, and that was the only true requirement for becoming queen of the Royal Family.

As it stood, the terms "king" and "queen" were not all too accurate. The kingdom expanded a few hours' walk in each direction: Kakariko Village to the north, Lon Lon Ranch to the southeast across the river, and Lake Hylia to the west. There was more to the land—much more. But upon sending scouts past the familiar landmarks, the Hylians found that the rest of the land was inhabited by a whole array of species, several of them humanoid. One race resembled the Hylians completely, save for their rounded ears. They called their homeland by many different names, depending on the species and tribe. And centuries later, King Daltus planned on unifying the country under one banner: the Kingdom of Hyrule under his command.

Someone shouted loudly outside the parlor entryway. The people inside turned their heads in unison to see a Hylian guard stumble in, armor clanking noisily with every fumbling step. "Your Highness!" he called, voice muffled from behind the shielded helmet atop his head.

King Daltus passed the princess delicately over to her mother, who took her with an apprehensive smile. "What is the meaning of this?" he said, tone not angry but not pleased either.

"Forgive me, sire," said the guard, breath coming in short gasps from his climb up the hill to the castle. "Rebels, in Castle Town."

Rebels, Ildrin thought. That's what anyone fighting for unification called them. Ildrin herself was born and raised in Castle Town, but in the lower-class district of Falden which was inhabited mostly by round-ears with the occasional Goron or Zora family. Most of the Hylians of Castle Town lived in the much more beautified districts, without starving children in the streets.

"Rebels?" Daltus said in contemplation. After a moment, he turned to the many well-dressed Hylian men around him. "You have a duty to your king, and to your city. Cedric." He turned to Ildrin's husband. "I trust as a blacksmith you have apt ability with a sword."

"Certainly, Your Highness," Cedric said.

"We cannot let the rebels reach the castle," Daltus continued. Ildrin noticed a hint of primal, fatherly determination in his eyes as he stepped forward. "They must have planned for my daughter's viewing. They cannot get to her."

Ildrin turned to Cedric. "You must fight?" she said quietly.

"I cannot leave now," he said. "But you have to return home. Make sure our boy is safe." Ildrin nodded, brow furrowed slightly. Cedric brushed a yellow lock of hair behind her pointed ear and kissed her forehead. "Ride safely."

Ildrin regarded him solemnly. She wanted to tell him to fight safely, to not do anything foolishly "honorable." He had a son to think about now. But she only watched him as he followed the other men out of the castle parlor.

"I suppose the official announcement has been cancelled," Queen Petra said as she looked anxiously at her husband. Daltus simply gave her an apologetic look before striding out of the room, following his men.

Ildrin walked over to Petra slowly and gazed down at the princess. "She needs no announcement," she said with a comforting smile to the Queen. "Her name is already known to all in the land, whether their ears are sharp or round."

"It's true, Your Grace," another woman said, stepping up. "Even those who worship a false pantheon know the significance of your daughter's birth."

Petra looked down at her tiny child, whose large blue eyes had peeked open from the commotion. She smiled warmly, eyes crinkling at the edges. "My little Zelda," she whispered.

Ildrin rode out of the castle grounds alone, leaving Cedric's horse behind for him to make it back later. Moving swiftly, she skirted the edges of Castle Town as surreptitiously as possible; it wasn't as difficult as she'd imagine, since nearly all of the fighting must have been occurring in the lower-class districts of the city. It was easy enough to guide her steed through the back alleys of the market and across the drawbridge without being detected. It would have made more tactical sense to ride through Castle Town and exit through the west gate, but she couldn't risk encountering the rebels. She had to make it home to her son.

She reached the estate quickly enough and dismounted just inside the gate so one of the servants could take the horse to the stables. Ildrin walked briskly to the front doors, waiting anxiously as Ranji, the doorman, opened it.

"Lady Ildrin," the short man said, black hair emphasizing his slightly darkened skin. He was by no means purely Hylian. "You're back so soon." He looked behind her. "And without Lord Cedric."

"Fighting has broken out in the city," Ildrin said, breathing heavily. "Where is Lanna?"

"Upstairs with the baby," said the doorman. He closed the door as Ildrin hurried inside. She couldn't quite place it, but worry settled deeply in her throat. She strode across the wide foyer and climbed the open staircase to the open second floor. She turned to the right and entered the nursery in a flustered daze.

"My lady!" Lanna gasped, holding the baby to her chest instinctively.

Ildrin walked over and took the baby into her arms. She stared down at his pale face, mushy with newborn fat. He seemed to be sleeping soundly, nostrils flaring gently with each breath.

Ildrin smiled, releasing a relieved sigh. "I'm sorry, Lanna," she said, still looking at her son. "The announcement was cancelled. Some Dinborn rebels attacked Castle Town."

Lanna, an image of messy dark brown hair and hyperbolic exaggeration, held both hands to her open mouth with wide eyes. "No!"

Ildrin seemed infinitely calmer now that her son was in her arms. "Cedric went with to fend them off," she said. "I'm sure they'll be fine."

"And what about the princess?" Lanna said.

"She is with the Queen," said Ildrin. "She is quite a beautiful child."

Lanna let a smile perk her expression. "So you saw her! Oh, how blessed you are. Hopefully the fighting won't reach the castle. Or here, for that matter. With Lord Cedric gone, we don't stand a chance."

"As I said, I'm sure we'll be fine."

It was a white lie, Ildrin knew. She sensed she was living in one of the darkest times of the Royal Family's history. Of course, being of higher class after marrying Cedric, she didn't have to worry about the same consequences of war that those in her home district of Falden did. But with her son in her arms, she saw a brighter future past all this fighting. It was only in that moment however that she realized there wasn't much hope in staying where she was. Castle Town was the center of all conflict now, and if she wanted her child to prosper, she'd have to leave.

"My lady," Lanna said. "Would you like me to make some dinner?"

"That would be lovely," Ildrin said. "Thank you."

The young round-eared girl nodded and stepped out of the room. Ildrin took a seat on the padded chair beside her son's cradle, head swimming with new thoughts of the young Hylian princess. Her name had been determined for her long before King Daltus was even born, let alone Ildrin herself. Every female heir received the name Zelda, just as much as they received their bright blue eyes. The legends told that the first Zelda was the mortal reincarnation of their goddess, their heavenly mother Hylia, who sacrificed her own immortality for the salvation of her people. Although she'd never admit it out loud, Ildrin thought it was a little far-fetched. Anyone claiming to be the reincarnation of a god was probably looking for power. But her Hylian ancestors followed Zelda faithfully, leading to the establishment of a Royal Family.

The tradition followed that every female heir was to be named Zelda in her honor, with the belief and hope that she would be another incarnation of the mortal goddess. It had been tradition for nearly five centuries now, after the first ordained Queen of the Hylian people. It was another aspect of the Hylian faith that Ildrin didn't seem to put much weight on, since there had been many Royal Family princesses that did not seem to bear the wisdom associated with the namesake. But something about the circumstances caused something to glimmer in Ildrin's heart. Especially as she gazed down at her little boy, a thin veil of blond hair coating his soft head. For another legend accompanied that of the princess, the legend of the Hero of Time. It said that the two would return to the world at its darkest hour. And if Ildrin believed anything, it was that the land was certainly in need of a hero.

"Lady Ildrin," Lanna said from the doorway. Ildrin hadn't noticed her return. "Your dinner is ready."

"So quickly?" Ildrin said.

"We had everything prepared to be cooked for when you and Lord Cedric returned," said the servant warmly. "It didn't take too long."

Ildrin stood from her chair, placed her son into the cradle beside it, and stepped into the corridor where Lanna was waiting patiently. "Thank you, Lanna," she said. "Please look over my son while I'm dining."

"Of course, Lady Ildrin," Lanna said, bowing and stepping into the nursery. But she turned suddenly before closing the door. "My lady, if you don't mind me asking…" Ildrin paused and turned to her maid. "Have you chosen a name for the boy?"

Ildrin smiled lightly. "I shouldn't make a decision without my husband's input, but I do have an idea."

Lanna nodded with a wide smile. "I do look forward to hearing his name spoken out loud for the first time. Forgive my prying, my lady."

"It's no trouble," Ildrin replied. "As soon as I speak with Cedric on the matter, I'll let you know promptly."

"Thank you very much, my lady. I appreciate it." Lanna bowed her head one last time and closed the door behind her.

Upon entering the dining hall, Ildrin was surprised to see a young man waiting by her seat at the table. He looked terrified, cheeks red from the wind and a look of pure fright in his glassy eyes. "Am I to understand that my doorman has let you in to see me at my own dining table?"

"Yes, Lady Ildrin," the messenger said. "Terribly sorry for intruding. Lord Ganondorf…sends his condolences."

Ildrin did not sit down. The name was terribly familiar. "Lord Ganondorf?"

"He is the leader of the Gerudo people," the messenger said shakily. "He was in town for the princess's announcement tonight."

"Yes, of course," Ildrin said. "What condolences, exactly?"

The messenger bowed his head deeply. "That is my message, my lady. The fighting has reached the castle, and it is slowly making its way toward your estate and the surrounding districts of Castle Town. Lord Cedric tried to battle off many of the rebels, but sadly, his attempts failed." He paused, giving Ildrin a chance to contemplate the news. He looked conflicted, as if he did not want to utter his next words. "Lord Ganondorf fought off and killed the man who murdered your husband, and had me send the news."

Ildrin stood there for a minute, eyes never leaving the messenger's fraught expression but thoughts never leaving her late husband and newborn son. Her jaw had set, and her brow furrowed, but she never let any other emotion aside from what looked like slight distaste reveal itself on her face. After another moment, she cleared her throat. "Thank you. I would have you help yourself to a meal in the kitchen before you leave, but you may find it more appropriate to join your family as soon as possible."

The young man bowed his head, looking relieved. "Of course, Lady Ildrin. Thank you." He departed to follow Ranji down the corridor.

Ildrin then collapsed into the seat before a covered dinner plate. She rested her face in her open palm, eyes still wide, feeling the raw ache of sadness clawing at her ribcage. Just as she started thinking about hope and prosperity for Hyrule, one of the most important people in her life vanished.

But she had to clear her head. The messenger mentioned that the battle was gradually making its way toward her estate, an estate that now belonged to a helpless infant who at the moment was sleeping soundly in the nursery, unaware that his father was now a part of another realm.

Without another moment's hesitation, Ildrin stumbled out of the dining hall and up the stairs to her son's room. She opened the door to see Lanna placing the child back in his cradle.

"My lady," Lanna said. "Are you finished your meal already?"

"Cedric is dead," Ildrin breathed, surprised at the shakiness in her voice. Lanna''s lips parted in silent shock. "A messenger came from the castle. Lanna, we must gather up the servants and leave this place."

"Are we in danger?" Lanna asked.

"Yes," Ildrin said, rushing toward her baby. "The fighting is making its way toward the manor and we must get away immediately. Inform the others of our escape and I'll see to my child." Lanna nodded, eyes widened with incredulity, and disappeared out of the room.

Ildrin gathered the slumbering child in her arms, gazing down at his smooth face. "My dear boy," she whispered, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes. But before she could mourn her child's future any longer, there was a loud noise from downstairs. Ildrin heard raucous shouting outside, another bang from downstairs. The rebels were here, and they were attempting to break down the door.

Quickly, Ildrin wound her child in multiple layers of cloth and placed him back inside his cradle. She rushed to her own wardrobe and searched frantically for a riding cloak. Once she found the dark navy garment, she swung it around her shoulders, collected her baby, and hurried downstairs.

"Lanna, Ranji, do you have the others?" Ildrin said.

"They are gathering their things, my lady," Lanna said, looking as if she would burst into tears at any moment.

"Good," Ildrin said under her breath. The souls she had to account for were already enough. She rushed toward Lanna, holding her baby to her chest. "Lanna, I need you to listen to me." The maidservant held her breath, nodding vigorously. "You and Ranji must take the others away from Castle Town. Set up camp in the Field if you must. But please promise me that you will leave this house, and Castle Town, behind you."

Lanna blinked, frozen by the immense task set before her. "What about you?"

"I have to take my son far from the reaches of this place," Ildrin said. "He is not safe here, and I cannot bring him up in the wilderness. We need to find a new home."

Lanna's eyes brimmed. "Lady Ildrin, it's a madhouse out there!" she said. "I can't let you travel alone."

"You needn't worry about me, Lanna," Ildrin said. "I will take my horse and we will flee this place. Promise me you will leave with the others!"

Lanna clamped her mouth shut for a moment, face set in an expression of frustration and terror. "I promise," she finally said.

Ildrin kissed the maid's forehead and turned on her heel. She made her way for the stables to find the horse she'd ridden to the castle hours before. Ildrin saddled and bridled the creature before a loud creaking sound came from her right. She turned swiftly, clutching her now awakened and wailing son to her torso.

"A lady!" came a hiss from above.

"And a fine one too." Many cackling men stalked into the stable, clutching swords and shields and wearing makeshift tabards of deep red. For a horrifying moment Ildrin thought it was due to the blood of those they'd killed. She backed away from them as another man with bow and arrow jumped down from a hole in the stable roof, landing just behind the new mother. They snickered to themselves, planning something terrible in their small, grungy heads. Ildrin thought of the child held tightly to her breast and was filled with a new determination. Resolute on getting her son out of the town, she swiftly mounted the horse and pulled the reins taught. The horse bucked and whined, kicking its front hooves out from underneath it. The men dodged the shoed hooves, crying out in frustration. With skilled practice, Ildrin tugged on the reins and sent the steed galloping out of the stable. She had just barely made it around a bale of hay when a sharp pain erupted from her left lung, spreading through her entire torso. One of the men had shot an arrow in her direction, piercing through her back.

Gritting her teeth, Ildrin rode on, down the path that led east. They galloped as the baby started letting out a fierce caterwaul of discomfort. Ildrin tried to keep her torso as still as possible, a difficult task atop a galloping horse. She barely had enough consciousness to notice the cracking thunder above her head and the spitting rain from the clouds. The drops masked the tears that fell from Ildrin's face as she spared glances down at her squirming, crying baby. But she gritted her teeth and rode on, all the way across Hyrule Field until night began to settle in the province.

For fear of the strange men following her, Ildrin directed her horse deep into the woods. She paid no attention to the howling wolfos in the distance, or the strange, glowing yellow lights that peered at her from the darkness between the trees. They could not harm her if she was quick enough. On and on they rode, until her horse's strength wore down as well as her own. As they slowed to a stop, the weakened mother lost grip on the reins and saddle and tumbled to the ground; thankfully, she thought, she still had enough in her to protect her son from suffering any damage.

The baby lay in his bundle, crying, and now soaking wet. Ildrin lay beside him, watching his every move with a motherly intensity. Rain drops filtered through the thick forest canopy, splattering against her cheek, but she couldn't feel it. She felt numb.

Suddenly a gentle light consumed the darkness. Ildrin would have looked up to see its source, but her eyes would not leave the boy.

"You are Hylian, from the city."

Ildrin closed her eyes. The voice was calm and peaceful, and she feared it was a product of the delusions of the dead. Reason told her that no one stood before her except for the silent, hidden spirits of the trees.

"Yes," she said shakily.

"I am Maia," came the same voice, a voice Ildrin determined to be from one of the enormous trees surrounding her. "I watch over and protect the Kokiri Forest. I will not harm you."

"Please," Ildrin croaked, placing a hand over her son's wet bundle, "whoever you are. If you watch over this forest, then watch over my son, Link."

The voice made no response for several fearful moments. Ildrin felt sobs wrack her body. Her eyes fluttered as a numb darkness spread through her mind.

"Yes," Maia finally said, "I will watch over the Hero of Time reborn." Ildrin's eyes closed, and she faded into a wakeless sleep.


	2. The Birth of a King I

**Thank you so much to WhimsicalAcumen for helping me through this story, and to TheEagle1989 and Lord Darth Yoda for sticking with this story regardless of my rewrite. Enjoy!**

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 _28 years earlier…_

I

Ezerella Loradime stood atop the sentry tower, gazing out over the immense valley with no more excitement than a skippyjack returning to freshwater. Taking up such a dull job was simply the only way of life for a lower-class Gerudo peasant like her. She hadn't really had a say in the matter. She simply woke up one day and received her orders from her district's overseer, then made her way across the extensive desert—a two-hour trip on horseback—to where the sand met the eastern mountain ridge and assumed her position as a sentry.

The view was nice though. She stood alone at the top of a shaded tower, gazing at the small, yet soaring turrets of the Hylian castle. She imagined the city beneath it, Castle Town, bustling with beautiful women, mysterious men, playful children with their toys and games of hide-and-seek. Not that she would ever imagine leaving; she had a mother and sister whom she loved dearly and would not leave for the world. Still, her heart ached for something beyond the sentry tower, something beyond the mundane lifestyle that was assigned to her. She sometimes wished that she had the charm and charisma to sleep her way to higher status, like so many of her fellow peasants before her. She was anything but charismatic however, so she spent her cool nights alone.

She often dreamed that she would be swept away by one of the few male visitors who made it into the desert, spending her time atop the sentry tower simply imagining scenarios in which they come to her door in the dead of night with a handful of golden sand, the traditional Gerudo declaration of love. Yet years went by and no such handsome man paid her a visit.

The young woman had frizzy red hair with deep brown skin and amber-colored eyes—incredibly common traits for the desert people. Her looks were average, and she didn't have the fighting spirit of the warriors, characteristics she often believed to be why she could not find a lover. For a young girl with a heightened imagination and a tendency toward romanticism, Ezerella found the task of standing atop the tower for hours at a time incredibly boring.

Although she was generally rather inattentive since she so rarely encountered anyone braving the valley, it was clear that her daydreaming had caught her up in some sort of fantastical reverie. She imagined she saw a lone traveler making his way across the valley, a steed of deep ebony bringing him closer and closer to the mountains bordering the desert. Ezerella couldn't see his features well enough from that distance, but she did catch sight of his most striking accessory, bringing her straight out of her reverie: a white feather tucked into a band around his head, so large and wispy that Ezerella was sure it had to have belonged to one of the ancient birds given as gifts from the false goddess to her precious Hylians. And it was this feather that made her realize this rider was no daydream.

"Aleira," Ezerella said, catching the attention of a Gerudo sentry who had just walked by on her rounds. Aleira looked up, red hair burning orange in the glaring sunlight. "Someone rides toward the desert."

Aleira climbed the ladder that led to Ezerella's perch and peered out over the ridge. Her eyes squinted against the sun and she shielded them with a thin hand.

"I don't see anything," she said.

Ezerella looked back to the rider. "He's right there." She pointed. He was advancing swiftly, and Ezerella was certain he was headed for the sentry tower.

"There's no one there," Aleira said, turning to leave the outpost. "You should drink more water. The heat is getting to you."

Ezerella watched incredulously as the other sentry descended and continued her rounds. She turned to watch the rider once more, mouth slightly open as he approached. He was upon the ridge now, skillfully guiding his horse up the twisted mountain pathway toward the tower. Somewhat panicked, Ezerella climbed down the ladder and rushed along the length of the tower, pulling at another idle sentry's face sash.

"A rider is coming up the ridge," she said desperately. The sentry gave her a shocked and annoyed look, fixing her sash and moving along. Ezerella moved from sentry to sentry and tried to inform them of the rider, but everyone she interrupted claimed to see nothing.

Something intangible buoyed her steps as she made her way down the immense staircase along the perimeter of the tower. She might very well have been hallucinating, but perhaps the other sentries simply weren't paying attention. This strange rider was her discovery, and she was going to be the one to stop his advance into their territory.

Finally on ground level, Ezerella rushed around the tower's base and up to the arch that identified the start of Gerudo territory. The rider was upon it now, and his horse was slowing its gait. Ezerella tied her own sheer sash around her nose and mouth and picked up a glaive that was resting against the wooden wall.

When the rider dismounted and walked his horse through the gateway, Ezerella got a good look at him. His handsome features suggested he was in his twenties at least, although his hair, long enough to cover one side of his face, was of a shimmering silver that flashed white in the glare of the sun. The cloak around his shoulders was a deep crimson red, shielding a tunic of white and gold from the intense winds. His boots were made of dodongo leather, bleached a pale brown from years of exposure to sunlight. Ezerella had to steel herself. Although she'd dreamed about the pale-skinned men of the mainland, she'd never actually interacted with them. This was no time for her imagination to get the better of her.

"Hello," he said, voice deep and yet soft. "Are you a member of the Gerudo people?" He spoke the Gerudo tongue fairly well, and Ezerella narrowed her eyes skeptically.

Eventually, she spoke. "Our leader is very strict on visitors," she said simply. "You must follow me." She turned curtly, hoping he would follow her.

The stranger grabbed his horse's reins and coaxed it through the sand as he followed Ezerella down a side path through the sandy ridge. "What is your name?" he asked.

Everything in Ezerella's common sense told her to keep silent until they reached the inner city, but her heart seemed to stop for this mysterious man and she couldn't keep her mouth shut. "Ezerella Loradime," she answered quietly. "I am a sentry of the Gerudo."

The man nodded. "I am Link of the West," he said in response.

Although Ezerella's expression remained stoic, she smiled inwardly. The name was so common among the Hylians that it had even bled into the Gerudo; some women had named their children Linka after the legendary Hero of Time.

But that wasn't the part of his name that made her speak. "The West?" she said, tone turning inquisitive as she glanced at him over her shoulder. "What do you mean 'the West'?"

"I mean," said Link, "west of this place."

"You came from the east," Ezerella said.

"I was not born in the east," said Link. Something shimmered in his eyes, and Ezerella found herself unable to look away. She wanted to point out that there was nothing west of the desert but endless ocean, that unless he was born within the waves he couldn't possibly be from "the west." But she said nothing as they continued along the path.

"If it would take less time," Link said after a moment, "we could ride Wrana here to our destination." He patted his horse's flank with a charming tenderness.

Ezerella imagined riding behind the visitor, her arms naturally curling around his muscled torso. She had of course hugged women before, and imagined it was an entirely different experience.

She cleared her throat. "We will ride, but not on your horse." She glanced sideways at the mare's beautiful black pelt and ochre eyes. In the sunlight, the horse's irises glimmered a ruby red.

They rounded a craggy corner were a small stable shielded several horses from the sunlight. Ezerella guided a spotted gray thoroughbred into the open air and mounted with ease.

"We'll stick to the mountain path," she said as Link climbed atop his own horse. "Wrana is probably not used to travelling swiftly across sand."

While Ezerella was correct in her assumption, the horse fared rather well across the path. The Gerudo found herself trying to test the Hylian—if he even was Hylian—in his equestrian abilities, having her mount gallop at full speed during difficult sections of the path. Wrana was always able to keep up, however, and the two riders made it across the desert in short time.

As they slowed, Link pulled up beside his guide. "Is that your city?" He nodded toward the immense site before them, a tall fortress constructed of adobe bricks and wooden posts. Thin red flags fluttered in the sandy wind atop every possible point. Gerudo guards and warriors brimmed the walls like Lanayru ants skittering atop an abandoned pastry.

"No," Ezerella said beneath a veiled grin. "That is Gerudo Fortress. We will go around it."

As they directed their horses around the perimeter of the fortress, a sentry watched Ezerella closely. She wondered why no one questioned her about the mysterious stranger following her, but they only seemed to notice her existence. For a fearful moment Ezerella wondered if this Link were only a figment of her imagination, and she cast an anxious glance at him. He returned her look with a polite smile, and she felt her apprehension dissipate into the sandy breeze.

The city was not too far beyond the fortress, visible even through the billowing sands. The walls stood tall and proud, and the palace spires poked up from within. Ezerella hadn't seen other cities, not really, but she knew that even if she had, she'd still think that of the Gerudo was the most beautiful one in existence.

They walked their horses up to the main gate of the city and were stopped by a guard. When Ezerella saw that once again the visitor had gone unnoticed, she played along. She said she was returning from her shift at the sentry tower. The guard let them through.

"Remarkable," Link breathed from behind her. She pulled her sash down to rest on her shoulders and allowed a grin to curl her lips. His eyes were on the scene before them, the Gerudo bazaar. The center was buzzing with activity: women washing their clothes in the collective basins; women selling all kinds of produce and delicacies at their respective market stalls; women strolling the stone pathways wearing the most colorful garments, golden jewelry tying back their fire-colored hair. There were even a few guards patrolling the area, narrow eyes scanning for anything out of the ordinary—all of them women.

"What's remarkable?" Ezerella said teasingly, watching as Link's eyes trailed the movement of a belly dancer's body while another woman played a pair of bongos beside her.

Link laughed as if he'd just been told a mild joke. "The Gerudo," he said. "You're all women."

It was the truth. Although no one could explicitly state how it had come to be, the Gerudo people were all women. Their elders and shamans claimed that an ancient evil cursed their race to die out gradually and miserably, providing them with one male descendant every hundred years. But as time passed the Gerudo took interracial breeding over going entirely extinct. The people of the mainland often clung to the stereotype that the Gerudo women captured their male counterparts, did their business, and then exiled the men into the hot, dry desert with no food or water for them to wander helplessly to their deaths. But the validity of these stereotypes was questionable, since not many people dared venture anywhere near the Lanayru Desert who hoped to live to tell the tale. The phenomenon remained however, and every single time a Gerudo women became pregnant from an outside lover, the child was a girl.

"Hey!" Ezerella looked up to see a guard approaching them. For the first time she saw another person's eyes land on the stranger beside her. "What's going on here?"

"A visitor from the east," Ezerella said, staring as confidently as possible at the guard.

"Did the chief approve his entry?" said the guard, eyeing Link suspiciously.

"Yes," said Ezerella. "I'm taking him to the Ralzana."

The guard looked between them for another moment before stepping aside. But as soon as they passed the threshold into the city, Link went back to being marginally unnoticed by everyone.

"Taking me to the 'Ralzana'?" Link said as they guided their horses across the cobbled street toward a wide, wooden stable. "Should I feel honored?"

Ezerella let the woman in charge of the stable take her horse's reins. "All visitors—especially men—are to be taken directly to Ralzana Koume," she said. "You should feel honored that I'm not."

"You're not?" Link said as he led Wrana into an unoccupied stall and pulled a carrot from a saddlebag. "Why?"

"Because you're different, _Link of the West_ ," Ezerella said. She watched the stranger's expression turn from one of puzzlement to one of mischief.

"You could get in trouble," he said.

"I have a feeling I won't." Ezerella watched as the stable woman walked right past them, completely unaware of Link's presence.

"I chose my companion well, I see," said the Hylian, grinning down at Ezerella. She wanted to ask him what he meant, but she remained silent, smiling up at him through pale amber eyes. She finally got a good look at his and saw that they were such a dark gray they appeared black. But what stood out under the shade of the stable were his pupils. They reflected the light around them like a cat's eyes, hints of red and orange coating the metallic-looking surface. Ezerella could have sworn that they held fire within them.

"Come with me," she said, turning quickly away from his gaze.

"If you're not taking me to the Ralzana," said Link, "then where are you taking me?"

"You'll need somewhere to stay, won't you?" Ezerella didn't look back to see the strange man react to her words. She left the horses behind at the stable and hoped he was following. "What exactly is your business in the desert?"

"I'm a traveler," he said. "And throughout my travels I've heard many stories about the grand Lanayru Desert."

Ezerella smirked. "I wonder which ones."

They passed through a small arched entrance to a slightly declined pathway, right past the district's overseer. Ezerella looked up at Link. He stood several inches taller than her and she felt some unknown feeling curl its way down her arms and back. She'd never felt anything like this before, and it frightened her immensely.

"Oh, I've heard so many," said Link. "Several of them, I'm sure, are truthful. But there is one that brought me to the desert. Sadly, I don't know too many details. I was hoping you could tell it to me."

Ezerella smiled down at her sandaled feet as they made their way down the slight decline, down a few scantily-paved steps, down into the "barrows," the neighborhood where Gerudo women spent most of their lives. She didn't know what story he was talking about, but she probably knew it by heart. If lower-class Gerudo held dominion over anything, it was the wonderful realm of storytelling. Such an art was seen as unnecessary and irrelevant, so while they educated themselves with magic and arithmetic, those of the communal wash houses entertained themselves with folk tales.

"I can," said Ezerella, still avoiding eye contact with the man. "But we should wait for the safety of a private place. Eyes and ears are everywhere, and I don't want to risk looking like I've gone mad talking to myself."

She heard Link laugh beside her. "I look forward to it," he said.

As they strode further into the barrows, its muddied colors began to show. Children, the only ones in the area since few men bothered with the women of the slums, huddled around a bucket of scum-lined water, splashing it on their faces just to stay cool. The buildings were not made of sturdy adobe clay but of rotted wood and shambling stones, eroded by the harsh desert climate. It appeared as if the whole area hadn't been maintained in years.

But Link said nothing as they continued on toward her residence. It wasn't on the main stretch of road, but behind a group of apartments and up some incredibly narrow steps. At the top she opened an unlocked wooden door and hurried Link inside.

There was nothing inside the single room but a small hearth and bedroll. As soon as the door was closed, Ezerella crouched by the hearth and looked up at Link.

"You cannot tell anyone of what you are about to see," she said. Link gave her a bemused look and sat down by the fire.

Ezerella turned toward the ashes, over which a small pot hung with some leftover stew still inside. She held a hand up to her lips as if she were telling a secret and whispered the words: " _Mahora hriasha_." Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a small flame ignited from the ashes and cast a warm glow over the room. Ezerella turned to Link, whose eyes were wide with amused shock, and for a moment watched how the light flickered across his pale skin. She'd never seen such pale skin before.

"You can perform magic?" said Link.

"Only a little bit. I was never allowed to practice officially, but it's always been a talent of mine."

"I think that's wonderful." Link's black eyes once again flickered like fire, but Ezerella only assumed it to be a reflection of the now burning hearth.

After a moment, she sat down on her bedroll, legs crossed beneath her, and smiled at Link. "Which story do you want to know?"

Link sat with his shins folded beneath him, hands resting on his lap as he gazed into the fire. "Several days ago, I heard a name," he said. "I know that doesn't sound at all like reason to brave the harsh Lanayru Desert, but it struck deep intrigue in my mind. The name was Ganon."

Ezerella's back straightened slightly, but a taut smile still adorned her face. "Where did you hear that name?" she said.

"In passing," said Link. "I don't think I was supposed to be listening. But I heard the man speak of Ganon, the mighty King of the Desert. I couldn't imagine it to be true, since I'd also heard that the Gerudo are all women."

"Ganon was a king, a Ralzan." Ezerella looked at the burning hearth, eyes glossing over as she remembered the tale. "The story says that he was the last Ralzan the Gerudo have ever known, and that it was because of his remarkable deeds that a jealous witch cast a curse on our people. The story is not considered history, however, merely the fable of entertainers. Would you still like to hear it?"

Link nodded.

"This desert was not always dead and dry," Ezerella continued. "Most of the coastline was once under the water, bordered by lush greenery and animal life. It was such a paradise of life that even the minerals found within the earth had innate magical properties—properties my ancestors harnessed to become powerful sorcerers. Among those sorcerers was the Ralzan and his family. He had a pair of twins: a daughter named Irane and a son named Ganon.

"Ganon was a bright young boy with a keen intellect and great curiosity. He quickly became an adored heir to the Ralzan's throne, and he in turn wished to bring prosperity to his people.

"His sister Irane, however, also wished to rule their people and did not know why her twin brother should become ruler instead of her. She was also a proficient user of magic and felt she was strong enough in will to lead. She was so jealous of the priority that was given to Ganon that she sought to get rid of him. She found a transfiguration spell in a black book that was supposed to turn any creature into a horrible, vicious beast.

"So Irane crept into Ganon's room one night and recited the spell. However, she was still a young sorcerer, regardless of her inherent skill. When she cast it, it transformed him into a beast only until the sun rose in the sky. Still, Irane was satisfied with such a curse—no Ralzan could rule as a vicious, hideous beast.

"When the Ralzan discovered that their son was cursed, they tried to keep it a secret. And even though Ganon was still a revered prince, the curse plagued him and his family each night, when his tan skin gave way to shaggy black fur, his nose and mouth to a long snout and thick, lengthy tusks. Whenever the Ralzan and Ralzana could not keep it constrained within the palace dungeon, the beast rampaged through the lush region like a wild animal. It plowed through fields of crops, turning the produce to ash beneath its hooves; every green thing it touched dissolved into sand. It devoured the animals and even drank from the salty ocean until it had drained it to near oblivion. Even the minerals that once held mysterious magic within them were nullified as soon as it passed by, for it was cruel lifelessness in the form of a beast.

"But the people of this dying paradise, through all the terror they felt every night, had no idea the beast was actually their beloved Ralzan prince. And no one except for Irane knew it was his sister's own doing.

"As Ganon grew older he refused to let this beast control his body when the sun set. He knew that as Ralzan he could not allow such a curse to plague his people. So he went to Irane, by now a powerful user of magic, and asked her if she could somehow rid him of the curse.

"Irane saw an opportunity. She could pretend to be curing him, when actually she could rid the valley of him once and for all. She agreed, and got to work finding a spell that would discreetly kill her brother.

"Eventually she found a spell of separation meant to cure werewolfos and other were-creatures. She figured that she could separate the beast from Ganon's body, and that it would simply devour him in its insatiable appetite. She mentioned the plan to Ganon and he agreed, willing to do anything to rid the land of this curse.

"Irane performed the spell successfully, right as the sun was beginning to set and twilight fell upon the region. Before Ganon transformed, an intense dark mist emerged from his body and formed into the beast. It stared down its brother of blood with an incredible might, already marking him as its prey. But Ganon, just as powerful a sorcerer as Irane, summoned a pure blade of light in order to vanquish this harbinger of death. The gods granted him this power, and the blade materialized in his hands. Just as the beast launched itself toward Ganon, he plunged the sword deep into its chest, spreading bright white cracks all throughout its body from the wound. It let out a horrendous roar before dissipating into black mist once more, blowing away in the wind.

"The people of the valley rejoiced. The beast had caused incredible destruction, and the land had since turned into a barren wasteland, but they trusted their powerful new Ralzan to lead them to a prosperous future.

"It was only then that Irane screamed in frustration, revealing her true intentions. She was so furious that her brother had managed to overcome her curse with such ease that she cast another curse, one that would guarantee his reign to lead to ultimate downfall: the eradication of their entire people. She cursed Ganon's lovers, and all lovers after them, to never again bear any sons. The people of the once-lush region would die out slowly and miserably.

"Of course, Ganon exiled his sister into the newly-created wasteland and assured his people that no matter what curse any witch cast on his people, he would give his life to serve and protect them."

Ezerella smiled, watching Link's face in the dimming light. His eyes had clouded over as he listened, and she loved the effect the firelight had on them. "There is an amendment to the story," she said, "that because of Ganon's selfless leadership, a new Ralzan will eventually be born. But there hasn't been one in centuries, so I'm sure no one believes such a myth."

"Do you?" Link said. His eyes were now on her, watching her every move carefully.

"Well it's just a story," said Ezerella. "Even the old ladies who tell such tales don't believe them to be true." She hoped she was at least mildly convincing, but something told her in the way Link smirked that he could see through everything, right into her very soul.

"It's a wonderful tale," Link said. "Although I wonder why a city of women would place so much renown in a male ruler, even one of legend."

"Some say that Irane was actually Ganon's brother with the name Iranon," said Ezerella. "Others claim Ganon was indeed a woman named Gana. But it is most often told with a brother and sister. I think people like it because it gives them hope of change. Regardless of what you believe, no civilization can flourish when it's only half a people."

Link smiled widely at her. "How very right you are."

Ezerella looked from his deep, reflective eyes and back to the fire within the hearth. She felt her skin tingle with chills and her heart pounding, as twilight fell over the valley.


	3. The Birth of a King II

**A/N: Thanks ever-so-much to WhimsicalAcumen for making my writing better, and to my reviewers for giving some solid feedback. Enjoy!**

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II

Saria leaned over the small blossom with an inquisitive expression, releasing a slight "hmm." The blossom was peeking out of a swaddle of green leaves, its tiny pink petals reaching out timidly for the sunlight it would never acquire under the heavy blanket of twilight. It vaguely resembled a Deku flower, one of the cunning hiding places of Deku tribe. It had grown—seemingly overnight—in one of the meadows of the Kokiri Forest, a mysterious maze-like ground known to the forest people as the Lost Woods.

"It appears to be a young flower," Saria said, placing her hands on her hips.

A wave of anxious whispers flowed through the crowd surrounding her. What puzzled the Kokiri the most was that the Lost Woods, and most of Kokiri Forest in general, was known for an extremely curious and perplexing trait: it was timeless. Once anyone stepped foot into the underbrush of the Kokiri's domain, the individual's body clock ceased and all of time remained trapped in a halted state. Years could pass outside the thick perimeter, but only seconds seemed to pass within. It put the Kokiri in a curious position, who never left the forest and seemed to never age. It was incredibly bewildering to even the most renowned of Hylian scholars, but nothing could be said for the forest's timeless existence. As dissatisfied as Saria was with this answer, it simply was how things were.

So here lay the question that was puzzling Saria so greatly: what was this blossom doing here? There hadn't been one in that exact spot before, not even a bud. Once the seasons stopped and time seemed to slow down, blossoms never occurred anymore since the wind never sang through the trees and the flowers never died.

"Now I don't want anyone to panic," Saria said, turning to face the crowd of disconcerted people. Her short bob of green hair glinted in the dappled light, the teal headband of an apothecary marking her role of healer and soothsayer. "Listen to me. This is a blossom, and it is nothing to fear. I'd like you all to return to your daily business and not to worry." She finished her speech with a warm smile, clasping her hands together. The Kokiri muttered their satisfied acceptance and dispersed, gradually leaving the labyrinth of tall shrubbery and overgrown underbrush.

From the disappearing crowd, the Kokiri leader, Mido, stepped forward and approached Saria with a solemn expression on his face. "Walk with me?" he asked quietly.

Saria looked up at him gravely as they turned from the blossom toward the wall of trees that surrounded the village. They stepped through the underbrush, arms linked together. "We mustn't look into it," said the girl distractedly.

"Does it have anything to do with your visions?" said Mido. He was of course referring to the restless nights Saria spent dreaming about the Great Deku Tree, the eternal, spiritual being that fathered and protected the Kokiri and the whole forest, cracking and withering into dust and ash beneath a wall of fire.

"Nothing is dying here," Saria said, looking ahead as they walked, "merely growing."

"But growth is accompanied by death," Mido said, jaw set.

"A blossom in the woods has nothing to do with fire," said Saria. "Perhaps we should be looking at it as a good omen against death."

Mido did not seem convinced. He used his free hand to adjust the green cap atop his yellow-haired head. Suddenly he said, "Do you think any of them know?"

Saria didn't need clarification. She and Mido were the only Kokiri who had a strong sense of the forest's timelessness. They'd thought of it as a blessing, a gift of deathlessness from the spirits of life. But it wasn't just immortality—it was the complete and utter halt of change, of life itself. And since she was aware of it, she could feel time dragging at the edges of the forest, pulling it and thrashing against its trunks as if it were trying to break through such an anomaly. Saria and Mido felt time pass in a timeless place. She hadn't realized at the time that their shared burden would be what brought them so close together.

"I don't think so," she said. "It's not their duty to know." She looked at him, green eyes wrought with worry. "We can't tell them, Mido."

"I know," he said. "But if the forest does start dying…" He took a deep breath upon saying those words. "They'll be so…lost."

Saria gazed at the trees that towered above them. They weren't particularly tall trees; the Kokiri had the strange trait of being about a child's height to an average person. Not only that—they even looked like children, with soft round features and large eyes. Most of them acted like children too, Saria thought. She had seen human children, and adults, wandering in the forest at times. The children would want to go exploring in the Lost Woods, chasing after some tiny spirit they saw in the corner of their eye, but the adults would relentlessly pull them away. Most other Kokiri didn't have any reference though, so they had no idea they anything even existed outside the forest.

"We should wait," said Saria, words partitioned carefully, "for the Great Tree to send a sign. When it is time for the Kokiri to leave, we will know."

Mido wasn't satisfied, but he stopped walking and turned to Saria with a calm expression. "I'll trust you," he said. "But we need to be hyperaware of any miniscule change in the forest. Take note of everything."

Saria nodded. She looked up to see the large, overgrown building they'd stopped in front of: a grand castle of stone that used to serve as a temple and home to a whole family of strange beings. All she knew about them was that they were gone, and this castle had since become an abandoned, eerie structure. It seemed to feel out of place in the forest, and not just for its high towers and regal atmosphere. No, there was something strange about it that Saria could not place.

"Have you ever been inside?" she asked suddenly.

Mido looked up to follow her gaze. The entrance was high above the ground and virtually unreachable; it looked as if there used to be stairs leading up to it, but they'd been destroyed by some unknown force long ago.

"No," he said. "Have you?"

Saria shook her head. "I don't think anyone's been inside for ages."

Mido laughed. "That means nothing within the forest's boundaries."

"I know," she said, still looking at the temple entrance. It looked like a gaping mouth, with nothing but darkness within. "But maybe if we knew, we'd have more answers."

"Maybe." Mido turned to head back to the village. "They'll be wondering where we are."

Saria took another moment to watch the temple, almost certain something was watching her back.

She finally turned to follow him back through the trees.

Upon reentering Kokiri Village, Saria felt the unease of her recent discovery drift away. She loved the way Kokiri Village looked under the blanket of eternal twilight. The leaves were a dark teal, slightly illuminated by the soft glows from windows carved into the trunks of enormous trees. Starry fireflies fluttered around the beautified creek that twisted its way through the trunks, fairy lanterns guiding it straight to the Sacred Grove. Several rock gardens seemed to come alive under the flickering light of the woodland fairies that accompanied every Kokiri villager, gifts from the Great Tree himself. Saria couldn't help pausing before she climbed the ladder up to the higher tier of the village, where a network of wooden bridges connected treehome to treehome. She closed her eyes momentarily and breathed in the scent of the magical place in which she lived—sweet rosewater and the constant aroma of trees right after rain. She opened her eyes and turned to the ladder while Mido continued on the ground, heading across the gracefully curved wooden bridge and over to the community house where villagers could speak with him about any concerns they had. Saria had to return to her apothecary's hut.

The hut, like most other Kokiri abodes, was carved straight into the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree, several oblong windows giving her a view of the ground below. Ledges for a bed and worktable, along with multiple shelves full of herbs and spices lined the circular wall, displaying expert craftsmanship. The only moveable pieces were the tools and single wooden chair, not to mention the leaves that made up the bedding and clothing.

Saria stepped inside and patted the edge of the small lantern in which Tera slept noiselessly. Even while fairies slept they emitted a glow so intense that one could not pick out their individual features, but it was still not quite as bright as when they were awake. Besides, Saria needed her help.

"What? I'm awake." The tiny fairy jolted up into the air, out of the lantern-home. She shook with a faint jingling sound, dragonfly-wings beating the air to stay afloat. "What is it, Saria?"

The apothecary sat down on the wooden stool by the ledge that jutted out from the round wall of the treehome. She motioned for Tera to rest back down on the surface.

"There is a new blossom in the Lost Woods," she said.

Tera's wings drooped downward as she landed. "You mean... a brand new one?" she said somberly.

Saria nodded. She watched her fairy companion contemplate for a moment.

Finally Tera sighed. "It seems it may be time to pay the Great Tree a visit."

Saria looked down at her hands. She had always known due to the nature of their first meeting that the fairy was keeping vital information from her. While she was eternally grateful for the Great Deku Tree's gift, it arrived without cause. Still, she trusted the Forest Father's judgment over anything else, including Mido, and did not question it.

"Will he tell me why I've been having nightmares of the forest burning?" Saria said in a hushed voice.

"I can't say," said Tera, fluttering up to meet Saria's emerald eyes. "But I do know that everything will become clear to you soon."

Saria sighed. "I'll go see the Great Deku Tree after I get some sleep," she said. "Will you come with?"

Tera bobbed up and down in affirmation. "Of course."

Saria stood back up and pulled the headband from her hair. She changed into a more comfortable dress and curled up under the blanket of leaves on the ledge that served as her bed. She couldn't help the feeling of nervousness that had begun to accompany her sleep routine. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of fire and darkness filled her mind. But she hadn't been getting enough rest lately, so she had to try.

Again Saria's dreams took her to the Sacred Grove, but this time no flames danced around the wildflowers—like Deku scrubs performing a sacrificial ritual.

The Great Deku Tree loomed before her, his gnarled branches seemingly enveloping her in a solid embrace. She could almost see a face carved from the wood of his trunk, something she'd never seen before. As she watched, the face's mouth gradually opened and the Forest Father let out a cracking groan. From the mouth emerged wisps of darkness that smelled of rotting leaves and turned the air around Saria black. Skulltulas with their snapping mandibles and unnatural bonelike carapaces crept from within, followed shortly after by what appeared to be a woman. Her pale naked body was wrapped tightly in the wisps of darkness and she seemed to be running from something. Her yellow hair was gradually turning black as the wisps clawed at her face. Eventually she shouted, voice layered with multiple tones, crying out for help.

Saria awoke with a start to see her little fairy bobbing above her head. She was jingling in what Saria could only assume was anxiousness.

"Saria!" Tera chimed. "Saria, wake up!"

Saria sat up slowly, holding a hand to her forehead. It was sleek with cold sweat. "I'm okay."

Tera's jingling calmed. "You were having another nightmare, weren't you?"

After a moment of shallow breathing, the Kokiri girl groaned into her palms. She was certain she would never feel the comfort of a deep, undisturbed sleep ever again.

"Give me a moment," Saria said. "Then we'll go to the Sacred Grove." She tucked her green hair behind her lightly pointed ears.

The fairy bobbed up and down and fluttered out of one of the carved windows in the treehome.

Saria got out of bed and threw on a green dress and brown slippers before heading out of the little hut. She climbed back down the ladder to the forest floor, Tera bobbing quickly after her. She nodded in brief greeting to the Kokiri she passed, and was thankful to find that most of them were retiring to their homes for some rest. That meant no one would be praying in the Sacred Grove. She was also grateful that Mido still seemed to be inside the community house, dealing with a villager request. She didn't want to worry him with her new vision, one not of flame but of shadow.

Past an ornate arch carved of pale wood and decorated with hanging vines and wildflowers lay the entrance to the Sacred Grove. Lichen draped from the branches and fell like hair into the stream, forming a fringed curtain. Tera slipped silently between strands, leaving a trail of blue dust behind. Saria stepped into the shallow water, the only way to enter the grove. She brushed aside the lichen and continued forward to see the Great Deku Tree standing tall before her. Its thick, twisting branches reached out over the entirety of the grove, connecting almost seamlessly with the trees surrounding it. Its massive roots twisted into the pool of water that surrounded it, although sometimes Saria thought the water was actually coming _from_ the tree, the great benefactor of all life in the forest. It looked like some kind of mountainous god, and even with the many times she'd witnessed its magnificence, she still felt the inexorable need to fall to her knees, hands pressed against the damp soil. She bowed her head respectfully, closing her eyes.

"Your nightmare must have been terrible," Tera said beside her.

Saria didn't say anything in response. She looked upward and cried in the biggest voice she could muster, "Great Deku Tree! Giver of life and guardian of the forest!" After a momentary pause of anxiety, as well as a search for the right words, she continued, "What is happening to the forest?"

There was no response. There never was, Saria thought. She believed the Great Deku Tree was not just an ordinary tree, if only for the sublime sense of awe that accompanied its presence. Yet it was in this moment of panic, weighed down by the feeling of intolerable helplessness, that Saria entertained the notion of how absurd she must have looked talking to a tree.

Then something changed. The air around the Kokiri girl lightened, as if she hadn't before noticed just how heavy it was. The leaves of the Great Deku Tree seemed to glisten and rustle with light and laughter, the sound of a million woodland fairies whispering to each other.

Saria looked at Tera. "Do you feel that?" she said quietly, but the fairy's attention seemed fixated on the tree. Saria gazed at it too until the leaves glowed brighter and brighter, turning white with magical light.

"Darkness is in the forest's future," came an authoritative yet gentle voice, that of a much older female. Saria had never heard anything so…graceful.

Then the very bark seemed to come alive. It twisted and molded into the shape of a beautiful woman, emerging from the intertwined branches of the tree. Her skin pearled over, but long vines still kept her attached to the tree. She had long green hair that turned to ivy as it fell down her back and wrapped around the bark behind her, matching with the foliage that covered her body. She was three times the size of Saria, and had a misty haze about her that made the Kokiri question whether or not she was a physical being. Unlike the fairies that now swarmed Kokiri Village, this beautiful woman had no wings, nor intense emission of light.

Saria wasn't entirely sure what she was seeing. "You're the spirit of the Great Deku Tree?" she said.

The woman let out a laugh that sounded like the chatter of fairies, only with the elegance and distance of a giant bell chiming in a faraway land.

"The Great Deku Tree merely accepted and welcomed me into his sanctuary," the woman answered. "I am Maia, the Great Fairy of Courage, and I watch over your forest."

Saria could barely move her lips, let alone her eyes from the woman's lithe, slender body. "A Great Fairy?" she finally managed to croak.

Another laugh from the Great Fairy sounded through the glade. With each peel Saria felt her wearying concern dissipate. "Listen to you, like an echo off a cavern wall," said the Great Fairy. "A long, long time ago, I was given guardianship over this forest. I met the Great Deku Tree, whose spirit was and still is the wisest and kindest I've ever known. I made my home within in his wooded sanctuary, and he and I have been watching over this forest ever since." As Maia spoke, she floated gracefully closer to the Great Deku Tree and brushed a tender hand along its surface.

"The woodland fairies," Maia continued, "were actually a gift from me. A way to more closely protect the Kokiri as the children of this wonderful, magical forest."

Saria looked at the Great Fairy, and then to Tera who was still fluttering above her head. "Did you know about this?" she asked.

Tera bobbed timidly in the air. "I am a child of the Great Fairy," she said. "Yes, I knew."

"Do not blame your friend, little one," said Maia with a maternal expression. "It was I who told my children not to reveal my presence to the Kokiri. I did not want to steal your hearts away from the Great Deku Tree."

Saria looked down at her slippers, brow lifted in mild astonishment. When she looked back up, she said, "If you've been here all this time, why are you telling me all this now?"

Maia grinned widely, her mossy green eyes glittering with the wisdom of an immortal entity. "Who do you think has been sending you all those visions?"

"It was you?" Saria said. She could not hide the note of despair in her voice. "Why?"

"Of course it did not please me to put you through such pain, but you are the only one I could talk to. The forest is cursed, little one. Timelessness is not something to treasure, as I'm sure you know. With death comes growth, and the birth of new things."

Saria thought about the blossom in the Lost Woods. "But in my dreams, the forest, the Great Deku Tree… All of it is burned down. There's nothing left. Death of that scale would surely destroy everything, including the Kokiri."

"The visions are not meant to warn you of the forest's death," said Maia. "They are a premonition of the dangers that can accompany change." The Great Fairy descended from the tree, hovering in the air until she was just above Saria's head. "A new age is dawning in this world. That is why it is necessary for the forest to die, and for new things to grow in its place. I know this fate is unnerving, and that it is a difficult one to keep on your conscience. But you must not fret over its inevitability. It is required in order for the world to be in balance."

"Then why me? Why send the visions to me, and what do they mean?" said Saria.

The Great Fairy seemed to don an expression of sympathy. "You have a far greater purpose than you know, little one," she said. "You pray to the Great Deku Tree for guidance and protection, but it is you who must guide and protect the forest in the coming age. The time of its demise is encroaching sooner than expected, however. That is what your dreams tell you. The forest must live a little longer, or else it will become corrupted and nothing new will come of it."

Saria took a deep breath. A greater purpose? What was Maia talking about? She had so many questions, and she knew that the Great Fairy probably wouldn't or couldn't answer them all. So she picked out the one that most certainly needed answering.

"What do I do?" she said.

Maia moved to lay down on nothing, still buoyed by the air. "Music has always pleased the gods," she said. "And in the new age that is dawning, it will rule the skies." The Great Fairy waved a hand through the air, conjuring up a small wooden item. "Fashioned from the bark of the Great Deku Tree, I grant you this ocarina, Saria of the Kokiri."

Saria took the ocarina from the ethereal being's hands, eyeing it closely. It was smooth and oblong in shape, with several holes etched into the round surface. "How do I play it?"

"There is a song you must learn," said Maia, returning to her perch in the branches of the Great Tree. "It was stored away within your heart from the moment you set foot on the ground, and can ebb the death of the forest. You must search for it, little one. You will know where to find it. But know that when it is time for you to pass on your ocarina to someone important to you, it is time for the forest to die."

Saria looked up at the fading entity of the Great Fairy. "How will I know? Great Fairy, please, how will I know when to pass on the ocarina, and how will I learn how to play the song?"

Maia paused, turning to flash a smile at the Kokiri. "The forest will guide you, little one, as you harbor a wise spirit." And with that, the Great Fairy let out a peeling laugh and vanished within the Forest Father.

Saria gazed down at the wooden ocarina in her small hands. Each and every word Maia had said clung to her skin like tree sap. What made Saria so special that she had to carry the life of the forest in her hands? She had no idea how to play, but she knew that in order to save the forest she would at least have to try.

"The Great Fairy is right," Tera said quietly, fluttering by Saria's ear. "The death of the forest may be frightening, but it is inevitable."

"I know," Saria whispered, holding the ocarina to her chest. She wanted to say more; she had so many questions swirling around in her mind like soup. But the instrument in her hands was the only answer she had for the time being. And it hummed with the making of a thousand new questions in the Kokiri girl's head.

"Let's head back," said Tera. "I'm sure Mido will want to know."

"No," Saria said quickly, still gazing at the Great Deku Tree where Maia had disappeared into its bark. "The Great Fairy entrusted me with this burden. I don't want to make Mido's life harder by sharing it with him."

And with that she tucked the ocarina away into a pouch and stepped into the stream of water that led back to the main village. As she left, she still heard the laughter of the Great Fairy echoing around the Sacred Grove, an ethereal bell ringing into the endless twilight.


	4. The Birth of a King III

**Shout-out to WhimsicalAcumen, who's been helping me ever-so-patiently with this. Before reading, please take note that I've heavily expanding the world of Zelda in this fanfiction, which includes new/extra deities and of the like. In this chapter you'll find a little more detail concerning the Gerudo pantheon. They are not inventions of Nintendo, although most everything else is. Enjoy!**

* * *

III

Ezerella sat silently as her sister Pivona laughed at her from across the dining circle.

"A man? From the _west_?" Pivona said, holding an elegant hand up to her mouth to stop food from falling out. Her slender fingers were painted with lines of gold with the dye of a sandflower, a common adornment for those who could afford it. "Blessed Tama, you really are bored up there, aren't you?"

Ezerella looked down at the communal bowl in the circle's center filled with spiced meats and flat bread slices. The cushions around it were of some luxurious fabric she couldn't determine, probably satin, and were trimmed with gold lace. The small circle was enveloped by sheer curtains, painting the whole atmosphere red and purple. It was the kind of dining circle meant for higher class Gerudo, an amenity the sisters had not known as children. Pivona, with her skinny figure and charming cleverness, had managed to seduce her way to luxury, leaving Ezerella and her heftier features in the barrows. It was no secret that she was, as of late, sleeping with one of Ralzana Koume's council members who had her own quarters within the palace itself. It earned Pivona the ability to spend hot afternoons under a cool canopy with a view of the palace oasis below her. Ezerella was not entirely convinced that her sister hadn't gained the council member's favor just for the lavish life doing so had provided.

"That's beside the point," Ezerella said, taking a tiny sip of wine from an ornate goblet on the ground beside her. She rarely got to taste wine, although she wasn't quite sure she enjoyed the bitter delicacy.

"It is not beside the point," said Pivona. Her curls were a deep crimson that always seemed to shine a little brighter than her sister's. "If what you say is true, which I highly doubt given your extravagant imagination, I'm guessing you did not bring him to the Ralzana. Where are you hiding him, anyway?"

Ezerella paused, amber eyes meeting her sister's golden ones. "My house."

Pivona's arched eyebrows shot up. "Keen to keep him to yourself, then?"

"That's not it," Ezerella said. "There's something…different about him."

"Oh, you're in love, how adorable," Pivona said, voice lilting. She reached into the bowl, curling her fingers around ground lamb mixed with a variety of spices and bringing it to her lips.

"Will you listen to me?" Ezerella said with a laugh, slapping her sister's arm.

"You will get in trouble, you know," said Pivona. "You already got in trouble for abandoning your station a few days ago. Besides, if you keep him a secret, if he's even _real_ , he can't stay hidden forever. Ralzana Koume will discover him. And I can't pull enough strings to get you off that kind of hook. Especially not now."

Ezerella couldn't stifle a smirk. They were never outwardly humored amongst people of sociable status, but the stories that flew like a sandstorm among the communal wash houses still had a home in Pivona's heart. Ezerella was glad that her sister's childlike love for the stories their mother had told them still made an impression. Yet the myth that usually accompanied the legend of the great Ralzan Ganon had bled its way into the palace. So many had written it off as just that—myth. But there were others who clung to the hope. Maybe it was more than myth—maybe it was true.

"Do you believe it?" Ezerella said.

Pivona stopped mid-sip of her wine and regarded her sister carefully. She put the goblet down. "I figured my last statement would give you that answer."

"You really think it could happen? A Ralzan?"

"Not just a Ralzan, Ezzy," said Pivona, leaning forward across the circle. "A Ralzan to bring ultimate prosperity to our people. To change the bleak situation with the Hylians that have declared ownership over the mainland."

Ezerella glanced out the parting between the drapes that shielded them from the hot sun to the shimmering oasis below. Not many people were bathing in the walled natural paradise reserved for palace residents and guests, what with the sun beating down relentlessly on the desert.

"His name is Link," she said, a smiling alighting on her lips.

Pivona's lilting laugh did not sound this time. "This is what I mean, Ezzy," she said, voice quieting as if someone, anyone but Ezerella, would hear her. "It's all fun and games when speaking hypothetically. But you _need_ to be careful. And I don't just mean about keeping him a secret."

"He's just a visitor, Pivona," Ezerella said, although her heart had started quickening its pace. "And it's only been a few days. I doubt anything world-changing will occur."

Pivona shook her head beside her. "Just be careful, little sister," she said. "Step lightly through this one."

After a brief good-bye and a warm hug that lasted no less than a minute, Ezerella took her leave as dusk was falling. She hurried her way down the marble steps of the palace, a seed of worry planted in her heart. Pivona was right, of course. She had done a fairly risky thing by inviting this stranger into Gerudo territory without getting permission from anyone, not even the Ralzana. She couldn't risk bringing him anywhere, regardless of his evasive nature. Knowing that he could slip up at any moment like he did with the guard upon entering the city was enough to frighten her.

Right now though, Link was sitting aimlessly in Ezerella's little abode, only a thin bedroll and small hearth to keep him company. She had left him there to talk to her sister. But it was clear given their conversation that Pivona would not be able to get her off the hook if she were to get in trouble.

Ezerella stopped by the stables to check on Wrana, the black mare on which Link had arrived; she was still being cared for, and still no one asked about her presence. It was both relieving and disconcerting. Ezerella was glad to know that Link's power extended to his horse, but she was also mildly fearful of just how powerful he really was. Stable hands were caring for Wrana without question, as if she'd always been there. That kind of manipulation was not to be ignored.

She hurried through the upper class neighborhood, keeping her head and face covered by a beautiful garment of bright cobalt that Pivona had given her to avoid any attention from the guards. She also hauled with her a woven basket filled with items her sentry wages could never afford her: wool blankets and warm sleeping gowns, bottles of dried fruits and meats, a rich red wine… Her sister never gave her fine day clothes because as soon as an overseer would see her coming from the barrows in such fine attire she'd be stripped naked and sent to work the sewers—a common punishment for stealing. Just to be safe Ezerella draped an old rag over the basket to hide the contents any time she left Pivona's balcony with one in tow.

Once at the sloped entrance to the barrows, Ezerella managed to sneak past the overseer—a skill she had come to be very good at. She saw one of the little girls crouched in an alley already shivering from the dying day and shed the scarf from around her head, handing it to her. She then stopped one of the women in the street who didn't have the luxury of a job at the edge of the desert and pulled her aside, discreetly giving her the wool blanket. Along the way to her home, she passed out the contents of the basket to the other women of the barrows, including the wine, only saving some of the dried fruit and meat for herself. Pivona had no idea that her sister gave away all of the amenities given to her. Ezerella didn't think she needed to know.

Once back at her apartment, Ezerella found Link seated on the bedroll with his legs crossed, open palms resting on his knees and his dark eyes closed. She shut the door quietly and set the almost-empty basket on the ground beside the hearth, taking a seat beside it. Link's eyes opened gradually and landed on Ezerella's with the most serene expression she'd ever seen.

He smiled.

"Hello," Link said softly. He eyed the basket beside her. "What have we here?"

"My sister always gives me food and blankets when I visit," said Ezerella.

Link leaned over and reached into the basket, pulling out a bottle of ambiguous strips of dried meat. "How generous."

Ezerella laughed. "The basket was much fuller before I got here." She paused, smiling timidly. "There are still those less fortunate than I."

She saw Link's eyes grow soft, regardless of the low light of the room. "You have quite a kind and generous spirit."

Ezerella felt her cheeks warm, although her dark skin showed no redness. It was the hundredth compliment Link had given her since his arrival, and the hundredth time that she almost closed her eyes, imaging the man leaning forward with his soft, thin lips hovering inches away from hers…

"I was hoping," Link continued, snapping her back into reality, "that such a kind spirit would allow me to leave her elegant homestead tomorrow morning. I do feel much like a caged guay."

Ezerella's giddy grin diminished as the worry swelled in her chest. She prepared her explanation, drawing on Pivona's reasoning from earlier that afternoon. She would tell Link that in the morning, instead of wandering Gerudo City, he would have to pack what few belongings he had and leave. Too much risk weighed down in Ezerella's shoulders for him to stay any longer. It was not a light decision, but it was a necessary one. Unless he wanted the two of them to get into serious trouble, he'd have to be gone before sunrise.

"Absolutely," she said. "I'll bring you into town when I get back from the valley."

"Your shifts last from the early morning to well into the afternoon. Couldn't I go on by myself?"

Ezerella's heart beat increased tremendously, but she thought it over. Even if Link were to be caught by an overseer, there'd be no proof that it was due to Ezerella's rule-breaking. It might be better than if she were to go with him.

"All right," she said cautiously. "Just try to remain hidden, won't you?"

Link grinned his knowing grin. "If you wish it."

He began to rifle through his pack—it was a large leather thing that seemed to carry more than it appeared.

Ezerella's crimson brow furrowed. What had just happened? What happened to all the reasons Link had to leave in the morning? She hadn't even mentioned one of them.

Before the Gerudo could speak up however, Link pulled a small wooden box from his pack. He unfastened a metal lock holding it closed, and the inside was lined with crushed velvet. Ezerella had only ever seen velvet on the Ralzana's dresses; not even Pivona owned any. Resting on the velvet lining were several craftsmen's tools, all of which seemed to be made of silver and blue stone. Link set the open box down and continued to pull velvet-wrapped items from the pack.

"What are you doing?" Ezerella said weakly, as if her astonishment had stolen her voice.

"I'm a traveler," Link said without pause. "I make a living by selling things that I've crafted throughout my travels." He lay several wrapped objects of similar size to the box next to each other on the floor and motioned casually toward the hearth. Ezerella promptly whispered fire into the ashes and the small room lit up with dancing light.

"What kinds of things?" she asked.

Link smiled as he began unwrapping the items one by one. Each of the velvet wraps contained a mask of varying shapes and colors, polished with clear lacquer and colorful paint. Each one looked as if days, even weeks, of hard work went into completing it, displaying Link's flawless craftsmanship. Ezerella could not help gazing in pure awe at all of them.

"You made these?" she asked. "By hand?"

Link smirked. "I've been traveling for a long time."

Ezerella reached out to pick up a mask of white with a red circle on the forehead and two eyes carved into its surface. "These are incredible."

Link smiled. "Thank you."

"This one looks like Farsu," said Ezerella. After Link gave her an inquisitive look, she added, "Farsu is the God of the Moon. He keeps the desert cool at night and is ever indebted to his sister Roue, the God of the Sun, for giving him some of her light." She smiled a little mischievously. "If you believe that sort of thing."

Link smirked. "I thought the Gerudo had only one god, the Sand Goddess."

"Not at all," said Ezerella. "Well, not at first, although people have been slowly turning their full attention to the Sand Goddess. The ancient pantheon consists of four gods. Tama is the mother of the desert and the Gerudo people, but she had two children, Roue and Farsu, to guard time in its two separate domains: day and night. Then there is a fourth god, one that not many care to speak of. He exists outside of Tama's reign over time, over the whole desert. He governs mortality itself, and everything associated with it."

"What is his name?"

"Aesis." Ezerella watched the softness peel from Link's eyes, even in the flickering firelight. He seemed to stiffen, as if he willed the blood in his body to stop flowing.

"I've heard that name before," he said as if it was an explanation for his strange reaction.

"According to the stories he is one of the oldest gods," said Ezerella. "All of them are recounted on the walls of the Arbiter's Grounds." She stopped short, looking away from Link and praying he wouldn't ask what he inevitably did:

"The Arbiter's Grounds?"

Ezerella looked into the fire and then back at the white mask still in her hands. "It is a sacred site to the Gerudo," she said. "No outsider is supposed to know about it."

Link nodded solemnly. "Understood," he said.

Ezerella looked up at him with a relieved look in her eyes. "Thank you."

"I would like to know more about the ancient pantheon," Link continued, taking the elegant tools from the box and beginning to work on a partially-finished mask. It was heart-shaped and made of dark wood that peeled away as Link ran his blade over its surface. "Perhaps you can tell me when you join me in the city tomorrow."

Ezerella nodded absently, watching him carve. "What will that one be?"

"This one's for an old friend," he said simply, not looking up from his work.

Ezerella didn't press him. She felt a creeping sense of cold anxiety in her chest. She prepared her bedroll and wrapped one of Pivona's wool blankets from an earlier visit around her, wondering how she had gone from evicting her strange guest to inviting him to peruse the city by himself. Perhaps she could convince Link to leave afterward. Yes, that was the only possibility. She'd simply have to steel herself under the scrutiny of his deep, reflective eyes.

Ezerella sighed, watching the strange man carve under the dim light of the hearth fire. How she could get lost in those eyes...

* * *

When the Gerudo sentry returned from her long shift the next afternoon, she hurried her way straight past the barrows and to the central bazaar.

Gerudo City at dusk was one of Ezerella's favorite sights: the thick adobe of the buildings burned a bright orange at the tops and faded to a gentle pastel orange at the bottom where the sun could not touch them from its low position in the sky. The sound of dull chattering and guay calls were the only things to break the silence, until the calls ceased and the chattering grew into lively conversation and laughter. The orange-and-brown city turned red and gold as more and more people filled the narrow streets after a day's work, prepared with empty stomachs and coins in their purses.

Ezerella felt for the satchel of her day's wages hanging from her waist sash. Pickpockets were common even outside the barrows, especially in the bazaar. What was more, she was rather exhausted from standing on a high tower in the relentless sunlight and sandy wind, so she had to be extra cautious. The fatigue was replaced with anxiety however, as soon as she laid eyes on Link's slender form ducking beneath a wooden awning, his crafted wares laid out on a colorful blanket on display.

Ezerella walked up to him, smiling in bemusement. "What is this?" she said, unable to hide her frustration at his nonchalance.

Link looked from the Gerudo to his crafts, then back to the Gerudo again. "My crafts," he said. His silvery white hair looked metallic even in the shade.

Ezerella took a deep breath, calming herself. She watched as several young women sauntered over in their thin clothing, eyeing the masks, weapons, and miscellaneous items under the awning, feigning interest. Their eyes continuously darted over to Link's handsome smile, his sharp yet gentle features. It momentarily struck her as odd, how none of them seemed to be unhappy with the presence of a strange Hylian man in their city, what with the Ralzana's reputation for only allowing certain approved men to stay. Usually they were lovers already taken by one of the Gerudo and had begun a family. Nonetheless, these women were openly vying for Link's affections, and it made her feel very strange indeed. She took another deep breath.

"You said you would remain hidden," she whispered.

"How can I sell anything if people cannot see me?" said Link, a permanently roguish smile on his lips. He made his way over to the group of women, holding his arms out in a welcoming gesture. "Ladies, do come in. Feel free to take a long look around."

Ezerella could almost hear him wink at them.

Once their abundant giggling had stopped, Link looked back at Ezerella. "You don't need to worry about me," he said reassuringly.

But she did. In the days, weeks that followed, Link's presence became undeniable. Being one of the only men in the whole city, many Gerudo flocked to his makeshift shop every day merely to pass yearning glances and comment on his interesting clothes. Although he appeared quite the reserved gentleman, Ezerella caught him on many occasions fastening a mask to a woman's face while standing behind her, and very close behind her indeed.

Ezerella pulled the man aside, gripping his arm and trying not to marvel at the strength it held. "Will you please be careful?" she pleaded, voice low as more young women crowded the small space beneath the awning. "You're drawing far too much attention to yourself."

Link chuckled and placed a hand on hers where she gripped his arm. Her heart pounded girlishly, but his next words instilled something far more frightening in her heart.

"You underestimate me," he said darkly. And with that he pulled his arm free of her grasp and waved it lightly in the air as if magically conjuring something out of nowhere.

But the only thing that filled the air, while wildly coincidental, was the sound of palace horns calling above the white noise of the bazaar. The chatter ceased and everyone around them got to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the cobbled ground.

Ezerella looked around in absolute horror as a whole troop of palace guards marched through the narrow marketplace, glaives pointed upward. They looked identical in their leather uniforms, red hair tied up and out of their faces concealed by sashes. In the middle, four servants held the corners of a litter on their shoulders, and on top, dressed in the finest velvet Ezerella had ever seen, was Ralzana Koume herself.

Panic coursed through Ezerella's veins. She could see it now: the Ralzana ordering her guards to seize Link and herself, to bring them to the palace dungeons where'd they be tied up and tortured and ultimately executed.

She looked back at Link. "The Ralzana. What is she doing in the public bazaar…?"

The look on Link's face caused her words to fade. He was grinning wolfishly, as if he had played a mean prank on someone. On her.

She didn't want to consider the implications of his expression and thus quickly turned away, prostrating on the ground as the Ralzana approached.

Unsurprisingly the litter stopped in front of Link's awning. Ezerella hadn't checked to see if Link even bowed at the Ralzana's presence, but she was grateful when she heard her languid voice say, "Rise."

She spared a quick look at Koume as Link got to his feet. The Gerudo leader was undoubtedly beautiful. Her burgundy, wavy hair stopped at her waist, held back by a red headband that dangled jewels in front of her golden eyes. Her tan face was partially concealed by a sheened veil of gold that connected to the headband above her rounded ears. Robes of red and yellow blanketed her shoulders, protecting her skin from the harsh rays of the sun.

"Link of the West, I am to believe?" she said with a slightly lifted chin, eyes scrutinizing the Hylian. The servants hoisting the litter had each gotten down onto one knee so that the desert queen's eyes were only just above Link's.

Link straightened and nodded. "Ralzana," he said. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Koume's gold eyes flashed with amusement. "I am at quite a loss," she said, voice like the velvet she adorned. "Usually visitors come to visit me before setting up shop and starting a life amongst my people."

"It is my fault, Ralzana," Link said. "I shouldn't have skirted your regulations. I understand if you wish to dispose of me."

Koume tilted her head to the side slightly, eyeing Link carefully. "I must say, normally my patience would be quite tested and I would do as you suggest immediately." She smirked. "But your presence seems to delight my people." The women around them giggled girlishly and Ezerella felt her jaw set against the tension. "I do have my eye on you, however."

"Understandable," Link said, nodding again. "Once again, my apologies."

Koume's smile widened, but the scrutiny did not leave her gold eyes. "Welcome to the Lanayru Desert, Link of the West." And with that she turned and the horde of Gerudo guards and servants continued their march through the bazaar.

Link sat back down on the roll beneath the awning as the minor crowd relaxed. "See?" he said, smiling at Ezerella. "Nothing to worry about."

Ezerella, still on her knees, looked up at the man in awe. She had seen even female visitors from the east get thrown into a burlap sack and dragged through the wastelands for not paying their respects to Ralzana Koume. This man had powers unlike anything she'd ever imagined, even on the most uneventful days at the sentry tower.

Suddenly her heart fluttered inside her chest. She had thought of something unthinkable, imagined something so unimaginable that she knew it was a self-given death sentence if she acted on it. That showing with the Ralzana, however, had her mind in a sandstorm that whipped away her common sense, and the words of warning Pivona had spoken a few days ago. She wondered if any of it was really happening. She wanted to see if she could wake herself up. Maybe by doing something just wrong enough…

"Come with me," she said.

Link's lips twitched and Ezerella saw his black eyes flash in the light. Normally Ezerella would have advised him to pack his things away to keep safe from thieves, but she was swept up in the momentum that generally came with doing something she shouldn't, so she only grabbed Link's hand and pulled him into a narrow alley.

As they navigated through the dusty streets of the quieter parts of town, Ezerella wondered if Link would ask where they were going. Whenever she cast an excited smile at him, he always seemed to have an expression of calm acceptance on his face. She shook her head slightly when she found that the expression made her somewhat frightened; she knew Link wouldn't hurt her. …would he?

The thought did not spend much time in her mind as they neared a wall—incredibly tall and made out of solid slabs of adobe clay. Along the wall about thirty feet up were square holes, made as miniature lookout points for the stealth warriors that patrolled the inner wall. Constant surveillance, Ezerella thought, even on the citizens within. She felt along the wall's surface cautiously, letting go of Link's hand.

"There's a passage here somewhere," she said, although she didn't think Link needed any explanation. He had walked up with her and was feeling along the edges.

"Here," he said after a moment, and nudged a loose brick at the base of the wall with his foot. The dirt ground gave way to a dark, dry passage that led deep underground.

Ezerella didn't take the time to wonder at how he found it. She and Link scurried inside before any of the wall sentries could spot them. She pulled a lever on the side of the passage wall and the path shut behind them.

For a moment they were in total darkness. Before Ezerella could even curse herself for not bringing a torch, her mind had delved into the possibility of them staying there with the darkness to hide any wicked deeds they might commit. Then the sound of a match lighting filled the quiet. Link's face, pale and mysterious, was lit up from the fire burning at the end of the match, and he smiled.

"Shall we?" he said.

Ezerella cleared her throat and wordlessly moved down the tunnel. It was as dry as the surface, and she had to cover her face with her sash so as to not breathe in any sand. The two of them had to duck their heads slightly—the passageway was a lot smaller than she'd remembered. They moved onward in silence, for many minutes. The tunnel was the quickest way to their destination, and probably the safest if you include harsh Gerudo guards as threats. But the trek in the darkness lasted about an hour before Link ran out of matches. It wasn't too unfortunate however, since Ezerella spotted a burning torch not too far off along the path.

Once they made it to the end, Ezerella pulled another lever on the right wall of the tunnel, made visible by the torchlight. She knew there must have been a spell on the fire to keep it burning, since the lever and torch stand were covered in layers of dust as if they hadn't been touched in years. Once the lever had been pulled, a row of stone steps appeared from above and she could see a wooden trapdoor at their peak. They climbed the steps and pushed open the door, only to reveal more darkness.

"Come on," Ezerella said. She grabbed one of the torches from inside the tunnel and closed the wooden door behind them. Around them were stacks and stacks of crates and ceramic pots, as if they'd entered a storage room. They made their way to a door on the far wall and Ezerella opened it slowly.

The light was blinding and the Gerudo had to step back inside the dark room to adjust. But Link stepped out with his dark eyes wide open as he gazed at what stood to their right: a giant curved wall with large arches built into its surface, ancient glyphs carved into the stone. Ezerella grinned as well when her eyes finally adjusted to the brightness. The backdrop of yellowish twilight—it always seemed to be twilight here, Ezerella remembered—made the whole grand structure shimmer in the dry air.

She grabbed Link's wrist again and pulled him around the edge of the curved wall. She knew there would be no guards on duty—this place was barely accessible as it stood in the middle of a mountainous valley not far from Snowpeak. But the place was so eerily quiet that she felt a need for silence.

Eventually they rounded the corner and stepped out toward the front of the massive structure. Stone pillars stood towering over them on either side of the building's entrance, which was a massive rectangular opening in the middle of the stone wall. Above it rested the symbol of the Gerudo, resembling a desert beetle, and many ancient Gerudo glyphs depicting Roue and Farsu, the lost Gerudo gods. Behind the entrance they could see the circular, open dome of arches, five stories high, the towering coliseum of the Gerudo ancestors.

The Arbiter's Grounds. It was known to be a prison of the damned where chained captives were dragged directly to the underworld through a mirror. It was just as, maybe more ornate than Gerudo Palace. It seemed to exist in a realm of the in-between, only accessible during the transitional hours of the day. The spirits of those once chained within its walls lingered in the air. Ezerella had been here a time or two in her childhood, when she and her sister would sneak through the tunnel that led here. Their mother caught them returning once and scolded them so heavily that they never even spoke of their secret, forbidden adventures. She said that the Arbiter would punish them horribly one of these days. Ezerella was never frightened of the cautionary tales anyway. The Arbiter was a terrifying spirit from the realm of evil itself, and little girls would be at his mercy if they did not make their beds every morning. It was only a children's tale to get them to do their chores. Besides, how could he have been real, Ezerella always wondered, if he was a man?

Link was standing at the top of the steps that led toward the structure's entrance, gazing up at the coliseum walls. His eyes were darker than Ezerella had ever seen them, and her eyebrows twitched apprehensively. Not once had Link wondered where they were going. And even now, as they stood on the heightened stone platform, he seemed to know exactly where he was.

Ezerella began panicking—she brought a complete stranger, an outsider, to the most sacred of Gerudo grounds, one she wasn't even allowed to visit. The Ralzana rarely ventured out here, let alone lowly peasants. Her heart began to pound as she watched Link survey the Grounds with an expression of sublime awe and determination.

"What are you?" she said suddenly.

Link's expression seemed to relax as he turned his dark gaze on her. He smirked. "I am Hylian." Ezerella could tell he was repeating this phrase as a form of test, to see if she still believed it.

"You're a Hylian from the west," Ezerella said, stepping toward him. "Yet you are able to manipulate peoples' perceptions, never mind that we are as far west as we can be. Either you are an incredibly talented sorcerer, or you are not Hylian." She knew he understood what she meant; not _human_.

Link laughed lightly, closing the space between them with a few swift strides. He suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly, holding it just above her head. She felt fear and panic flash through her as she gazed into his shadowy eyes, now alight with the red fire of the setting sun.

"You want to know what I am?" Link said, voice low and rough as his eyes raked over her body.

Ezerella wanted to run. She wanted to go back to before she let this stranger into the desert. She prayed to Tama to reverse time, to undo all of this. She never felt more afraid in her life.

And finally Link's lips were on hers. Ezerella didn't think she could push him away even if that was what she really wanted. She found herself leaning into him heavily, moving her lips against his with an intensity she'd never felt before. She needed to be closer to him, to be part of him. The two of them collapsed on the stone before the entrance to the Grounds, pressing into each other as the red sun sunk below the horizon.


	5. The Birth of a King IV

**A/N: Hello! It's been quite a bit since my last update because I had a symposium/thesis thing to prepare for so I can graduate next month. But here it is - with a big shout out to WhimsicalAcumen once more some diligent beta reading.**

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IV

The days went by and dragged relentlessly at Saria's weariness. The ocarina, given graciously by the Great Fairy of Courage, weighed like a black brick of burden in her pouch; she carried it with her everywhere for fear of someone finding and asking what it was. The instrument was a constant reminder of the incredible task that had been given to her, one that she had virtually no idea how to begin. While her sleep was no longer disturbed by visions of slithering shadows and trees of ominous purple fire, she felt more exhausted than ever before. There were times she seemed to black out entirely, looking up to find herself in another part of the village with no recollection of how she got there. And her only true friend, Mido, was none the wiser.

Saria wanted to tell the Kokiri leader everything, and almost did so on several occasions. They would be talking about a young Hylian stumbling through the Lost Woods and Saria would begin fiddling with the wooden ocarina safe in the satchel attached to her waistband. All she had to do was pull out the instrument. Mido would ask what it was, where she got it, and then the burden would be shared between them.

Saria stayed her tongue, however, thinking about Maia's words: "You are the only one I could talk to. It is you who must guide and protect the forest in the coming age." She'd said that Saria harbored a wise spirit. Hard to imagine, the Kokiri girl thought, considering how she still had little idea what most of Maia's cryptic words meant. She certainly didn't want her personal concerns to mean the untimely death of the forest. Besides, Maia said a new age was dawning, over the entire world. Her failure could mean disaster for everything outside the forest, let alone within.

Saria sighed as she sat sideways on her bed, back against the curved tree wall and feet dangling off the edge. The delicate ocarina lay in her open palms on her lap, her little fairy standing on its polished surface. At least she could talk to Tera.

"Have you tried playing it yet?" Tera chimed.

"No," said Saria, fatigue dragging at her voice as much as her eyelids. "I don't know how."

"You have to start somewhere," said the fairy. Although Saria couldn't quite see her due to the intense light she emitted, she thought she saw Tera stick her head inside one of the instrument's many holes. "Go into the woods," Tera said. Her voice echoed from within the ocarina. "Maybe the magic of the trees will help you."

It wasn't the worst idea. Saria often sat in the soft sanctuary of the Lost Woods when she had a lot on her mind. She let the steadiness of the dim light soothe her spirit as she watched the woodland fairies play amongst the branches. The sounds of the forest were like a symphony, and she could listen to it for what felt like hours, if, of course, time passed normally in her yellowish-green home.

Saria moved the ocarina as she stood, knocking Tera back into the air. "Let's go," she said.

"A little warning next time would be nice," Tera mumbled as she followed the Kokiri out of her treehome.

Once she was down the ladder and on the forest floor, Saria turned and bumped her forehead straight into Mido's. The childlike Kokiri leader rubbed the spot with a little laugh as Saria apologized profusely.

"Where are you off to?" Mido said. "I was about to see if you'd come to the rock garden, maybe talk over some ideas I have about the dreams you've been having." His eyes searched hers with scrutiny.

"Oh, I'm headed to the Lost Woods," Saria said. She tucked the satchel in which she'd put the ocarina closer to her side, as if Mido would try and take it.

"I'll go with you then."

"No," Saria said a little too quickly. Mido's brow rose in mild shock. "No, I'd like to go alone." She glanced at Tera, who was still bobbing above her head. "Well, Tera's coming with me to play with the wild woodland fairies." She could've winced at how horrible her excuse must have sounded.

Mido looked at her in confusion until he finally nodded. Without saying anything else he turned away to leave her to her own thoughts.

Saria sighed. Ever since her encounter with Maia she and Mido had grown considerably distant. She didn't know if roping him into her burden to save the forest would be better or worse than where their friendship appeared to be heading.

"Come on," Tera chimed, fluttering away in the direction of the Lost Woods. Saria followed wordlessly.

Usually those wandering in the dense forest couldn't tell when the Lost Woods began. It was like a circle of magic around a particular section of trees that caused anyone entering to lose all their bearings or sense of direction. Not many could navigate it; only the woodland fairies, animals, and wise spirits of the forest seemed capable. Except, of course, for Saria. She wondered if that's what Maia meant, about her harboring a wise spirit.

As she walked through the dense thicket, making her way toward the meadow where she usually went to be alone with her thoughts, she spotted the new flower that had puzzled her not so long ago. It sat among the brambles, nestled between thick green leaves, now almost the size of a giant, snapping Deku baba's head. She didn't spare too much time looking at it. Tera was already jingling past without a moment's hesitation.

Saria looked up. The treetops would usually converge in a triangular pattern right about now, but when she gazed at them they had no such appearance. She continued onward; maybe she'd misjudged how far she'd gone. She walked another length and looked up again—still no triangle. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Tera," she said, looking around her at the trees and feeling the disquiet of unfamiliarity settle in her chest. "What's happening?"

Tera had stopped in front of a large, looming tree, whose eerie gray bark seemed to give the fairy pause. "I don't know," she said.

Saria spun around again, heart beating furiously. She could always navigate the Lost Woods. So much for her wise spirit.

Then it struck her: she knew this place. It was the copse of tall trees that stood right in front of the old castle, the enormous stone building that had been overgrown for what must have been centuries. This was where she and Mido had discovered the new flower while walking aimlessly amidst the trees. Why was she here?

Saria jogged through the trees until she saw the foreboding expanse of the castle, gaping mouth of an entrance seeming to whisper into the misty air. Something had called her here; it must have. She stepped toward it gradually, watching with narrowed emerald eyes. Then slowly, as she got closer to the structure, vines began slithering from the cavernous entrance. She wanted to turn and run, but it was Tera who floated closer.

"Wait, Saria," she said. "Look."

Saria watched as the vines began intertwining, growing together out of the castle entrance to form a set of makeshift stairs, like how she imagined the castle would've looked before it was abandoned. They grew outward and downward, with a slight hissing noise, as if inviting the Kokiri girl inside. Saria considered turning and running again—clearly something strong enough to manipulate the forest itself was behind this.

"Are we going in there?" Tera said, her usually bubbling voice reduced to a whisper.

Saria reached into her satchel and pulled out the wooden ocarina. It was almost humming, clearly affected by the magical presence of the vines. It didn't feel malicious though, and Saria looked back up at the newly-formed staircase.

"Yes," she said resolutely. She stepped onto the vines, and upon feeling how sturdy they were, walked up and into the stone building, clutching the ocarina to her chest.

The building was dark inside until Tera fluttered in, shedding her soft green light on the walls of a long, narrow room. A wooden door stood at the other end, and Saria stepped toward it tentatively. The door stood like a tree trunk in front of her, clearly meant for beings much taller than Kokiri. She couldn't imagine anything born of the forest living in such a cold, walled-in place. Pushing on the door, she swung it open.

The room on the other side was much, much bigger, maybe as big around as the Great Deku Tree. An enormous hole in the ceiling filtered light into the massive chamber, allowing her to see much better than she had in the smaller room. She stood on an elevated platform above a stone staircase leading down to the center of the room. Down below was a square structure, surrounded by four stone lanterns situated in each corner. Saria wondered when the last time was that they were lit.

"I don't like this place," said Tera. "The Great Fairy's presence is everywhere in the forest, but I can't feel it here."

The fairy was right. Living in the presence of the Great Fairy, whether she'd know it or not, had given Saria an innate sense of fairy magic. She felt none of it here.

"Tera…" she said, gradually making her way down the stairs as she gazed down at the square pulpit. "Time is flowing here." As she said the words, she saw a handful of brown leaves drift in through the hole in the ceiling. Time was flowing, yes, but something was still not right about it.

As Saria stepped down onto the stone floor, a gentle hissing noise filled the eerie quiet. She assumed it was more growing vines leading her deeper into the castle until Tera floated by the shadow of the platform. Her bright light shined on a bloom, bluish in color with red and brown speckles, the same size as the new blossom on the edge of the Lost Woods. Saria recognized it immediately.

"Tera!" Saria gasped as the bloom snapped open and lunged, stretching its green, thorn-laced stem, for the woodland fairy. It snapped its spiky petals at Tera, who dodged them just in time, avoiding the sickly-yellow vine dripping with venom that lashed out at her like a tongue.

With Tera shivering on her shoulder, Saria rushed away from the edge of the platform. The wet smacking of the baba continued as she ran to safety until they finally calmed, returning the chamber to its unsettling silence. It was only in this renewed silence that Saria thought she heard dissonant whispers coming from the walls.

"Are you all right?" Saria said once Tera had stopped trembling. The fairy glided off her shoulder and out in front of her.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. "I don't think I want to stay here very long."

"Neither do I," said Saria. She looked up at the entrance, where vines were still gathered into a staircase. There was that feeling again, like she was being watched from the shadows.

"What exactly are we doing here?" said Tera.

"I'm not sure." Saria looked back toward the interior of the castle. "We can't go back now. Something tells me this place is the key to the forest's curse."

She walked slowly past the four stone lanterns, looking up at them in mild awe. They stood almost three times her height and were far more ornate than any of the carvings on the wooden bridge in Kokiri Village. They loomed, like intimidating reminders—of what, Saria didn't know—over anyone who stood beneath them. They must have once been incredibly important, Saria thought, as the breeze from the hole in the ceiling blew dust and old leaves from their mantles.

Saria continued past them and gazed up at the grand staircase in front of her. Above the double doors at its peak was a painting unlike any of the crushed-petal paintings on the walls of Kokiri treehomes. It was much more colorful and detailed, and held within a rectangular frame—all of which Saria imagined was even more beautiful when not covered in dust. She squinted her eyes in the dim light, making out a male figure, probably human, seated as the subject of the painting. He wore rather luxurious clothing: furs, soft-looking green fabrics, rings and buttons of gold and silver… Behind him in the background of the painting was a sword in some kind of pedestal.

Saria's eyes narrowed in recognition. Mido had found a sword once lying in the middle of the Lost Woods, probably dropped by a young soldier. It looked nothing like the one in the painting, but it still fascinated the Kokiri, who'd never encountered any kind of weaponry before. Thankfully Mido locked it up in a box so that no harm could be done. It still made Saria nervous.

Her soft green eyebrows furrowed as a shadow passed over the painting. It couldn't have been from the sun—could it? Was time passing that quickly here? When she looked up at the hole in the roof however, it was still twilight, and no clouds had been moved by the wind.

Saria's eyes alighted on a deep shadow right above her head, clinging to the edge of the hole. Following her line of sight, Tera flew slowly up to the shadow, keeping a safe distance. She illuminated something Saria could not identify; it was huge, with what looked like black scales covering its body. It must've been a creature, a skulltula maybe, but with five limbs keeping it attached to the ceiling.

And then it dropped, right above Saria's head.

She screamed, running out from under the thing's shadow. It landed on the ground with a solid thud, and Saria tripped over her own feet in panic. Landing on her knees, she spared a look behind her, heart pounding.

It was a hand. It was a large, scaly hand—cut off cleanly at the wrist—with long, pointed claws. It was large enough to wrap its fingers around Saria's whole body, maybe even two Kokiri at once.

Saria's eyes widened in horror as the hand's fingers began scrambling, scratching against the floor to crawl toward her.

"Saria, run!" Tera chimed.

Fumbling to her feet, Saria followed the fairy's light up the grand staircase and through the double doors. She didn't dare look behind her, but she could hear the scraping of claws against stone in quick pursuit. Tera led her up a second set of stairs, which stopped and turned every which way, giving Saria a glimpse at the horror chasing her. She wasn't used to such large, steep steps; the ones carved into the Deku trees in Kokiri Village were better suited for small feet. But something propelled her onward until she reached the top.

"There!" she heard Tera shout. In front of them was a doorway to a room, lit inside by what must have been a lamp. Saria sprinted toward it with all the speed she could muster until she was safe inside. She turned just in time to see the open palm fly at her, slamming the door with all her might. The _thunk_ of the hand hitting the door on the other side made her flinch, and she felt chills curl up her back as she heard it crawl up the side of the outside wall and away.

She barely had time to think when a man's voice penetrated the dull aftershock of silence.

"My, my, you've been very helpful, fairy girl."

Saria spun around to see an adult Hylian seated in front of a fire atop a very bubbly-looking chair. He had very pale skin, a head of neatly-combed orange hair, and the most unnerving smile Saria had ever seen. He fiddled with something in his hands—some kind of blue, crystalline stone—and smiled up at her with innocent-looking eyes.

Tera immediately shrunk behind the emerald curtain of Saria's hair.

Saria didn't say anything, far too system-shocked to make any kind of acknowledgement that she even understood his words. He laughed, a sound like water rippling from an ephemeral source.

"Ah yes, you've had quite a scare, haven't you?" he said liltingly. "Well, I must say, I have been trying for ages to find a way into this place, and then you came along. I must thank you for that."

Saria gulped, head still spinning. She glanced around at the room they were in. It was some kind of bedroom, with a large canopied bed on the far wall. To her panic and confusion, someone was under the covers, still as stone.

She looked back at the man, finally finding her voice. "Who are you?" she croaked. "What is this place?"

"All the right questions, I promise," said the man, "but I doubt the answers will clarify anything for you." He stood, standing quite tall above Saria's green head. He took a few steps toward her, admiring the stone in his hands. He held it up as the firelight flickered orange on its surface. "Beautiful, wouldn't you agree?"

Saria felt her back pressing against the door as he got closer. She felt Tera bury through her hair and cling to her neck. "What is it?" she asked shakily.

"It is a stone that holds within its properties the essence of time itself." The man looked from it down to Saria and laughed another airy laugh. "Oh, I should probably mention that I have no intention of harming you. In fact, I'd even like to help you. After all, you've done quite a bit to help me." He tossed the blue stone up in the air, catching it as if it weighed nothing.

"Is that why the forest is cursed?" Saria said, still unsure of whether or not she could trust this man. "That stone?"

"This?" He held it up in gesture. "Oh, no, no, my dear. This was brought here by a man seeking the past." He smirked lightly, turning to walk toward the bed. "Horrible and wonderful things once happened here. An evil presence was sealed beneath the very earth, and an ancient and powerful weapon kept it there. This fortress was built in order to protect it with four sages designated as its guardians." At this he stopped by the side of the bed, reaching a hand down to presumably touch the face of whoever lay there. His permanent smile turned sad. "They've long since passed from this realm."

He looked back up at Saria. "The man who brought the stone here wished to…relocate this history," he said. "This is merely a shard of the original, sliced away as a vestigial remnant. Much like the evil that was once sealed away here. Not to worry, of course. The man successfully relocated the weapon and the evil presence. The only thing left here is a dark shadow. You mentioned it yourself."

"The curse," Saria said under her breath.

"I don't like this," Tera whispered from her shoulder. "He knows too much about the curse."

Saria felt her shoulders tense up as the strange man walked back towards her. He looked at Saria with scrutinizing eyes. His expression turned melancholy. "The happiness has drained from your spirit."

Saria stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"You've given up hope that the forest will be saved, that the whole world will be saved."

Saria's eyes widened slightly. How did this man, whoever he was, know anything of the forest, or of her immense burden? She shifted on her feet slightly. "I trust the Great Fairy."

The man laughed again. It was high-pitched and hollow. "There is a difference between trusting and believing," he said. After another moment he looked around the interior of the bedroom, a look of nostalgia on his permanently smiling face. "The guardians that lived here were isolated from the rest of the world. They grew to hate the sunlight and never ventured outside these walls. When the man came and took what they swore to protect, their spirits were disturbed."

"Saria, don't listen to him," Tera whispered. "The Great Fairy hasn't said anything about disturbed spirits… he's probably lying."

Saria felt apprehension tighten her chest. She glanced at the still body lying in the bed. She couldn't see a face from where she stood—only the vague outline under the covers of a human body.

"Is that why you're here?" she said to the man timidly. "To return the weapon?" She felt Tera's wings droop against the skin of her neck.

"Oh, no," the man said. "I'm here for the stone." He tossed it in the air again before pocketing it inside his deep purple coat. "Among other things…"

The man turned and picked something up from a table by the side of the bed. It was the size of Saria's palm and round in shape, glinting green in the firelight. Tera poked her head out from the hair resting on Saria's shoulders. Saria glanced at her in confusion, but the fairy was preoccupied with the object in his hand.

"This also belonged to the guardians," the man said, holding it out to Saria. "It now belongs to you."

Saria stared at it curiously. Swirled marks had been engraved upon its flat, circular surface. "What is it?"

"Quite simply put," said the man, "it is the essence of the forest itself."

"Why does it belong to me?"

"It called out to you, didn't it?"

Before Saria could question him further, the man put the medallion in his pocket. She gave him a confused look, unsure of what to say.

"Not to worry, fairy girl," he said, clapping his hands together. "I'm here to help, remember? However, there is something more you can do for me."

Saria wanted to leave, but she felt like she needed that medallion. Something was pulling her toward it, and she wondered if that was the reason she felt so strange outside, why the vines formed a staircase for her to enter the fortress. Or maybe it was the mysterious, somewhat unsettling presence of this man.

"I would love for you to give me your fear," he said.

Saria was quiet for a moment, watching this man's hands bob gently up and down beneath his smile.

"My fear?" she said finally, voice small.

"Yes," said the man, "which comes with your worries and sorrows. I would very much like to replace your grief with happiness."

"Why?"

He laughed once more. "There's another right question. Unfortunately, the answer isn't so simple. All I can say is that I am a salesman of happiness. It's simply what I do. And I'll give you relief in return for your anxiety."

Saria stared at the man with incredulity. She wondered what the catch was to this proposition, but she didn't want to leave without the medallion.

"I don't know if I trust him," Tera said, "but I have a feeling you should do what he says."

Saria looked from her fairy to the man, who was still smiling his peculiar smile.

"Okay," she said cautiously. "How do I…give you my fear?"

"Quite easily, actually," said the man. "All you have to do is close your eyes and concentrate on everything that has been weighing you down. All of your troubles and concerns about the forest, about your responsibilities, about the shadow of death looming over everything you care about. It will start to feel better, I promise."

Saria stared at him for another moment.

"Saria…be careful," Tera murmured as she glided off the Kokiri's shoulder, watching her carefully.

"Okay," she finally said, closing her eyes.

"Very good!" she heard the man say cheerily. "Now just concentrate on your fears, and listen to the music."

Before Saria could ask what he meant, she heard the soothing tones of a piano filling the eerie quiet. The melody was soft and simple, but carried with it so much significance that it made Saria's heart flutter. She scrunched her eyes tighter and turned her attention to her fears. She thought about the forest and the task she was given, to keep it alive until some unknown time; she thought of her nightmares, of the Great Deku Tree dying and the Kokiri losing their precious home to monstrous shadows; she thought of Mido, and Tera, who still floated above her head. She thought of all the people who must be in the world outside the forest and the frightening prophecy given to her by the Great Fairy.

Then she felt light. She tried to continue focusing on her fear, but the task was becoming more and more difficult. She felt lighter and lighter and lighter until she had to slump to her knees, hands pressing against the carpeted floor to keep herself supported. She vaguely heard Tera's anxious jingling, asking if she was all right. She tried again to think about the forest dying... but all she could do was smile.

The music stopped and Saria opened her eyes. She was staring at something on the floor between her two hands, something she hadn't seen before she closed her eyes. It looked like a flattened skull of sorts, with bony decorations and two black holes where eyes would be. It almost looked like a mask. Tera floated down to examine it, right before a too-thin hand with slender fingers quickly snatched it up.

Saria looked up to see the man standing in front of her, tucking the mask neatly into a pouch.

"Doesn't it feel better?" he asked.

Saria stood slowly. She did feel better. Her worries were simply gone; she still knew that the forest was in danger, and that she held a great amount of responsibility, but she no longer felt so out of control, so weighed down by impossible and insurmountable anxiety. She felt like she could do anything. And the ocarina in her pouch… She suddenly felt it humming with energy.

"Saria, are you okay? What happened?" Tera whispered.

Saria didn't answer, smiling up at the man.

"You've done wonderfully, fairy girl," he said. He reached into his pocket again and pulled out the medallion. "I do hope you realize that while fear and grief are healthy emotions, happiness and hope are much more powerful." He held out the medallion. "I believe this is yours."

Saria smiled up at him and took the pendant. She held it in her palm, watching the light flicker across its green metallic surface. Holding it in her hands made her feel all the stronger, all the more hopeful.

"What was that mask?" she asked suddenly.

The man laughed, but it no longer felt empty or unnerving. It felt happy. "It's your fear. You did say you would let me have it. Besides, it might make someone else very happy one day."

Saria wanted to hug this stranger, but she restrained herself. "Thank you," she said simply.

"Take care of the forest, my dear," said the man, buttoning up his long coat. "I'm sure you'll know what to do now."

Saria grinned, feeling the presence of the fairy ocarina in her satchel. She turned to open the door, suddenly unafraid of whatever monster had been chasing her before.

"Saria," the man said. She turned to face him. "Have faith."

Saria nodded happily and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"What happened in there?" Tera asked quietly. She darted around the room, illuminating the corners as if looking out for the strange hand creature that had routed them into the room with the man. "He gave me the creeps. Do you think he made that hand thing chase us here?"

"It's fine, Tera," Saria said calmly. She looked up, noticing several skulltulas and smaller versions of the hand creature skittering across the ceiling. She grinned. "Come on, quick!"

Tera lit the way once more as they headed down the stairs and into the main chamber. Even the twilight that filtered through the caved-in ceiling seemed a little brighter to the Kokiri girl. Renewed hope buoyed her steps as she ran past the lanterns, past the Deku baba and up the stone stairs. The vine staircase hadn't moved and she rushed down them, eager to taste the forest air once more.

As the vines began receding back into the fortress entrance, Saria stopped. Tera hovered in the air above her, wings flitting rapidly.

"What is it?" asked the fairy.

"The song of the forest." Saria felt a gentle wind brush across her skin, ruffling her jade-colored hair like the leaves of a tree. She closed her eyes, feeling the pulse of the forest within her. The melody whistled through her mind and she reached into her satchel for the ocarina, feeling the energy flow through it. Pressing the mouthpiece to her lips, she began to play.

The song was lively and colorful, like Kokiri dancing in praise to the Great Deku Tree. The speed of her fingers startled her, as well as the immense power she felt at the melody's sound. She played through a whole song, and then repeated it with only a burst of elated laughter in between. In her mind a whole orchestra of forest instruments had joined in. She danced in place, overjoyed by the tune and the energy. She kept playing the tune, feeling buoyed by its lightness and empowered by its abilities.

Finally she stopped, pulling the ocarina from her lips and staring at it in amazement. She could still hear the music in her head and in the wind that rustled the leaves above her head.

"Did it work?" Tera said quietly.

Saria smiled. "Yes," she said, pressing the ocarina to her lips once more.


	6. The Birth of a King V

**A/N: It's been a while! Please give lots of love to Whimsical Acumen, who's been helping me with this story. Enjoy the final part of The Birth of a King!**

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V

"Did you know," said Pivona, her golden-orange eyes glued to the yellowed pages of the book in her hands, "that one of the walls of the Sand Temple depicts a Gerudo ancestor who lay with a god in the form of a wolf, and then gave birth to all the evil in the world?"

The two sisters sat on their usual balcony, overlooking the palace oasis. Ezerella was chewing her lip, only vaguely listening to her sister's words as she gazed out across the windy desert toward the hazy silhouette of the Arbiter's Grounds. She imagined all the spirits trapped there and wondered what they had done to warrant such a fate.

"Hm?" She looked at Pivona.

"She _lay_ with a wolf," Pivona repeated, disgust layering her voice.

"Under the enchantment of a god, I'm sure one would do anything," said Ezerella distractedly.

Pivona closed the book and put it beside her on the stone balcony's floor. They sat under the sun as the midday summer wind felt nice on their shoulders.

"Everything all right?" she said.

Ezerella's gaze had returned to the Arbiter's Grounds and the rocky mountains that enclosed the coliseum-like structure. It looked as if the land itself were trying to swallow up the hallowed place.

She took a deep breath, weighing every possible word in her mind before speaking them: "Farsu has abandoned me."

The Moon God, Farsu, had come to Ezerella in a dream three months ago. He was colossal in size, with opalescent skin and a red circle painted on his forehead. Ezerella watched his large, white pupil-less eyes turn away from her before she awoke in a cold sweat. Since that dream, she had missed three moon days.

Pivona stared at her for a brief moment before looking gravely concerned. " _What?_ " she whispered.

"Farsu has not visited me for three months now," said Ezerella.

"Why?" Pivona said.

"I don't know."

Another moment passed. Pivona looked to the door before whispering, "Are you…with child?"

"I don't know." Of course Pivona was asking all the same questions Ezerella had asked herself the moment her first month came and went with no blood. She'd managed to calm herself down then, mainly because she hadn't yet realized something was…missing. Off. Wrong. The second month passed and she ended up in a burning panic, but she refused to believe the possibility. She'd neither talked to nor seen a man in months. But now that it was the third month... "Maybe."

"Maybe?" Pivona said with an anxious laugh. "Ezzy, how could you be pregnant?"

Ezerella looked down at her hands folded in her lap. She closed her eyes and for a moment saw the vague impression of a Hylian man's face, with silvery white hair and skin so pale she could count each green and blue vein. It was an image that had haunted her inner eye since she dreamed of Farsu, but she couldn't give it a name. She couldn't even see it clearly. She knew that, given how little faith Pivona put in her word due to her vivid imagination, mentioning a hazy silhouette of a man would mean nothing.

Pivona's voice softened. "Ezzy, did someone…force himself on you? Because if so, I could make a case to the Ralzana and he'd be executed immediately—"

"No, I don't think that's it," said Ezerella.

"You don't think…" Pivona's voice faded. She paused, contemplating. "It could be nothing, you know. Plenty of people miss moon days with no reason."

Ezerella nodded, but she knew that was not the case. She gazed out at the mountains. "That's not all," she said. "I can't remember…" She paused, sighing. "I don't remember anything before three months ago. Not just how or why Farsu left me, but _anything_. It's like a whole chunk of my memory is missing."

Pivona's face went from mildly concerned to gravely somber. After a long look of worried silence, she finally said, "Well then, let's just try to think back to three months ago. You must have visited me..." Her words faded and her brow furrowed. "Nothing stands out to me. Complete normalcy."

"If nothing significant happened," said Ezerella, "then how..."

Pivona bit her lip. "You need to rest. You've had a traumatic experience and it's messing with your head." She stood and headed inside to the lavish suite she shared with the Ralzana's councilmember.

Ezerella stood as well, watching her sister begin digging through clay pots and glass jars aimlessly. She laughed, and could've cringed at how unstable it sounded.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for sleeping herbs. You're going to stay here and rest," said Pivona. She paused, taking a deep breath. "I'll have the palace doctor come see you."

"Has the heat gotten to you?" Ezerella said, eyebrows raised. "What exactly do you think will happen? If I'm pregnant I'll be taken in and questioned, and you'll get in trouble for not telling the Ralzana."

Pivona smiled, not without a hint of pity. "Trust me," she said. "Koume might be harsh in her ways, but she's not twisted. She wouldn't harm a pregnant woman." She put a comforting hand on Ezerella's shoulder. "As for me, I'll be fine. Avane will keep me safe. She has more power in the council than any other member."

"Well I'm not going to stay here," said Ezerella. "I can't. If I miss any more days on the ridge, I'll be out of a job and then what? Unless Avane's changed her mind about letting me stay here with you, I'll be one of the jobless barrowers who need to eat from the scrap buckets."

"I won't let that happen. When Avane finds out you're ill, she'll let you stay. I'm sure of it."

Ezerella sighed. She sat on the cushioned floor once more, looking up at her smiling sister. It was in moments like these that Pivona acted more and more like their mother, fretting about and yet always optimistic, as if their mother's spirit had passed to her when she died. Ezerella, on the other hand, felt her heart pounding in apprehension, a cool sweat making her old, frayed clothes stick to her brown skin. She didn't like anything about this plan, but knew that maybe she was indeed ill and needed help.

Pivona poured clear water into an ornately painted ceramic bowl, crunching a few dried herbs into it. "It's probably that horrible communal watering hole that's done this to you," she said, handing it to Ezerella. "I've talked to Avane about getting cleaner water in the barrows, but she's been quite busy lately."

Ezerella put the edge of the bowl to her lips and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the clear water. Her eyes were sunken and bruised with blue manifestations of anxiety. Her skin was beginning to hang off her cheekbones, her amber hair looking rattier than ever. She thought that maybe the chief ridge sentry would have sent her home anyway, looking like this.

"You stay here," Pivona said, straightening her sheer shoulder sash. "I'll go get the doctor—she's very nice and very lovely. You'll be in good hands, I promise."

Ezerella watched her sister leave in a flurry. She looked down at her own hands, wrinkled and dirtied with soil and dust.

Her mind was in a fluster of distress that had not ceased since that first missed moon. How could she be pregnant? All reason told her that she couldn't possibly be, but she felt it in her bones. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, she knew that in six months, she'd have a child.

Ezerella let her forehead fall into her open palms, letting out a brief groan of anxiety. With her eyes closed she saw the apparition once again: a white-haired man with the eyes of Farsu, pure white like the moon. His features were blurry, but she stared long at him with her mind's eye. Eventually her head began to ache and she opened her eyes, rubbing her temples with tired fingers.

Ezerella lay down on the pile of cushions, pulling a thickly-woven blanket of some unknown animal's fur over her shoulders. She lay there, staring at a tapestry on the far wall. It depicted the fierce battle between Roue and Farsu, the Sun and Moon Gods, who almost destroyed the whole world. Ezerella remembered hearing the story from her mother as a child; she could imagine it clearly even now: Roue the bright lioness grew weary of Farsu constantly borrowing her light during his domain of time. She wished to push him from the sky. One night, when Farsu was high and full in the starry heavens, Roue snuck behind him and pushed him toward the earth. More and more Roue pushed, until she was close enough to hear the screams of terror from the people below. She did not wish to destroy her people and pulled Farsu back to his home in the sky. Only then did Farsu say that he borrowed Roue's light not for his own desires, but for the people below, who would go insane in the complete absence of it. Roue apologized and returned to her own domain, allowing Farsu to continue borrowing her light during the evening.

The next thing Ezerella knew she was being shaken awake vigorously. The light that once filled the room had dimmed significantly, indicating she'd slept for quite a while. She opened her eyes wide, looking up to see Pivona's gentle features in a panic. She rattled Ezerella's shoulders once more.

"Wake up!" she said, casting an anxious glance to the doorway.

Ezerella sat up groggily, stifling a yawn. "What's wrong?" she said.

"Something bad has happened," said Pivona, eyebrows knotted in worry.

"What is it?" The change from Pivona's optimistic demeanor to one of distress was jarring as Ezerella wiped sleepily at her eyes.

"I told Avane everything," Pivona said. "I told her you were ill…and that you have missed three moon days. She asked if you'd seen the Ralzana for a blessing of fertility… I told her that we're not even sure you are with child, but she ran off. Ezzy, I don't have a good feeling about this. You know how strict the Ralzana is when it comes to pregnancy."

Of course Ezerella knew; the law decreeing that all women must see the Ralzana for a blessing upon laying with a man had been around for nearly ten years now. Ezerella had always assumed it was to ensure a safe carriage and labor, for not many chances at reproduction were available in the first place. However, her perspective began to shift a year ago, when one woman several months into her pregnancy had refused to see the Ralzana and was locked up in the palace dungeon for heresy. Only then did Ezerella begin to suspect that the law was something more than it appeared on the surface.

"What do we do?" Ezerella said with a mildly shaky voice.

"I don't know," said Pivona, fingers to her lips as she thought.

The wooden doors swung open. To the sisters' surprise the guards who entered were not aggressive; they stood on either side of the doorframe and planted the ends of their glaives on the floor. Between them Avane stepped forward, a taut smile on her face. Ezerella had always found her beautiful in a very stern way. Her slick, straight red hair was tied behind her head in a tight bun wrapped in a net of jeweled beads. Her jawline was sharp and nose as pointed as her golden eyes. She held her hands behind her back.

"The Ralzana would like to invite you both to her dining chamber," said the woman, stony expression revealing no underlying emotion.

Ezerella looked at Pivona. Her sister was staring icily at Avane.

Avane cast a scrutinizing look at Ezerella before saying, "Dress appropriately." She turned and left the room, leaving the guards to guide the sisters to the dining room when they were ready.

A cool silence filled the room once the doors shut firmly.

Ezerella didn't quite know what to say. She knew the conditions of Pivona's relationship with Avane. There was little to no true romance involved, but the look in Pivona's eyes told her that the unfamiliar treatment still stung.

Before she could say anything, however, Pivona turned to her with an empty smile. "Let's get you dressed."

Pivona disappeared into a separate room filled entirely with gowns and sashes of colorful fabrics. After several minutes she appeared again with a dress dyed red and yellow like the swirls of a cloudy sunset, intricate golden patterns lacing the edges. It was stunning; Ezerella could not believe she was going to be wearing it.

"Avane's favorite dress," Pivona said curtly, words pointed. It clung awkwardly to Ezerella's hips and belly, making her feel mildly embarrassed. Pivona seemed to approve though, and topped it off with a shimmering red face sash.

With Ezerella dressed, the guards led them down the wide corridor toward the inner chambers of the palace. Ezerella had never been in the Ralzana's part of the palace before and she found herself gazing up at the austere walls. They were dotted with gold relief work and mosaics of miniscule tile, depicting Tama as she watches diligently over the desert and the endless cobra of time peering over her shoulder. Ezerella's awe was cut short, however, when the guards stopped them in front of a set of grand double doors painted with ambiguous patterns. Another guard opened them and the sisters were marched inside.

The chamber was long and narrow with a single wooden table in the middle. The far wall was broken by a large window that allowed a cool breeze into the room, making goosebumps rise on her arms. It wasn't due to the temperature, of course, but to the nerves that made her whole body feel somewhat shaky.

Sitting at the far end of the wooden table, in front of an appetizingly prepared feast of bread, berries, cheese, and a whole wild boar sat Ralzana Koume, a chalice of wine to her lips. Avane sat to her right, the same emotionless expression on her face. The Ralzana eyed her guests with scrutiny before beckoning for them to take a seat opposite Avane.

Ezerella took the seat closest to the Ralzana, nausea pulsing through her body. She prayed it was due to the frightening nature of their meeting with the Ralzana and not the fact that she might be three months into pregnancy.

"Avane, would you please excuse us?" said the Ralzana, voice velvety smooth and as crimson as the hair that draped elegantly across her exposed shoulders.

Avane stood and walked around the table. She whispered something to the guards who had brought the sisters to the dining room and they suddenly pulled Pivona out of her chair.

"Get your hands off me!" she hissed, making a twinge of fear widen Ezerella's eyes. How could she be so reckless? She'd surely be locked up for such insubordination. The guards pulled Pivona along and exited the dining room with Avane.

"Where are they taking her?" Ezerella asked tentatively.

"She and Avane have much to work out," said the Ralzana. "Besides, I wanted to speak with you alone." The Gerudo queen took another sip of wine. Her eyes flashed like gold in the light of the torches on the walls. "I've heard so much about you in the past few days."

Ezerella, unsure of what to say, remained silent. Her eyes flickered toward the lavish food before her, sitting uneaten on silver and ceramic platters.

The Ralzana laughed, picking up a grape with two delicate fingers. "You're welcome to have some if you wish."

Ezerella swallowed the lump in her throat. How could she resist such a feast? She'd never eaten boar before, let alone fresh produce from beyond the desert. She reached out and filled her plate with green fruits she didn't recognize and leaves of colors she didn't think existed, then with whole chunks of cheese and freshly baked bread. Finally, she reached for the boar and tore off a solid piece of meat, placing it in the center of her plate.

The Ralzana put down the grape and cleared her throat. "Not long before you arrived, Avane told me something rather interesting," she said.

Ezerella paused mid-bite of the boar meat and looked at the Ralzana carefully. She put the food down and used a piece of cloth by her plate to wipe her mouth. How disgusting she must have looked to her ruler.

"Of course, Avane tells me interesting things about you and the women of the barrow district daily, how you hand out palace amenities to the homeless," the Ralzana continued. "It really is a shame. I had no intention of hurting anyone when I gave Avane the task of infiltrating the poorer district of the city. I simply wanted to get a better look at the lives of my most suffering citizens." She paused to don a look of feigned sympathy. "Avane didn't want to get her hands dirty, however." She shook her head as if disappointed in an apprentice of hers. "How deceiving relationships can be."

Ezerella put her hands in her lap, no longer hungry. "What do you mean?" she asked, voice small.

"Sadly, Pivona's feelings will not be spared in her conversation with Avane. I knew the truth would surface eventually, but I needed eyes everywhere. So Avane gathered as much information as she could from your sister."

Ezerella's jaw set tightly as she stared at the Ralzana. She felt her own heart breaking for Pivona, for the betrayal her sister must've felt regardless of her loveless relationship with Avane.

"That's not what I wish to speak with you about," the Ralzana continued. "Avane told me you are with child."

Ezerella felt her stomach churn nauseatingly. She could feel a cold sweat gleaning on her skin, dampening the beautiful dress she wore.

"I… I don't…."

"Oh, there's no need to worry, dear," said the Gerudo queen. "Women are not legally obligated to come to me until their third missed moon. All I wish to know is the identity of the man who…did this to you."

"Ralzana, I cannot possibly be pregnant," Ezerella said hastily. "I have not met with or even seen a man in at least a year. And I'm sure if I encountered any incoming visitors on the ridge I would have done my job and brought him straight to you."

"My dear, three missed moons is no coincidence. I'm sure you feel it in your bones. Do not lie to me." The Ralzana gave her a pointed look through eyes flecked with gold.

Ezerella bit her lip, her heart pounding fervently against her ribcage. Eventually she shook her head. "I don't remember," she said.

The Ralzana smiled a smoldering smile that made Ezerella feel smaller than the grape once in her hand. "Well," she said. "There have been no visitors to the desert, male or female, as of six months ago. So if you are indeed pregnant, then it was due to a permanent resident and father of another child here in the city. And as I'm sure you know, permanent residency is only permitted if complete fidelity is exercised. So I will ask you again—for I wish to find the scoundrel who has broken his vows and banish him from the desert—who is he?"

Ezerella wanted to leave. "I…" she murmured, "I don't remember."

The Ralzana's eyes began burning with authority. "If you do not tell me," she said, voice still quite calm, "then I will be forced to assume you went out of your way to seduce one of the permanent residents, perhaps for some coin to buy a lump of moondust."

"No," Ezerella croaked. "It's not like that, I swear."

"Then tell me." The Ralzana leaned back in her high chair, gazing at Ezerella expectantly. "How are you pregnant?"

"There's a face," Ezerella blurted. "A face I see when I close my eyes. He's a mainlander I think, probably Hylian. His features are blurry though…"

After staring at her in silence for a long time, the Ralzana stood. She jingled from the bands of gold jewelry dangling from her neck, arms, and chest. As she exited the dining room, Ezerella heard her say to a guard waiting outside, "Take her to the dungeon."

Before Ezerella had time to run, to react, to do anything, the guards had seized her as they had Pivona. She struggled against their shackles they clasped to her wrists behind her back.

"I don't remember!" she cried. "Ralzana, please!"

The Ralzana was already gone. Ezerella was dragged out of the dining room and down a narrower hallway lined with closed doors. At the end of it was a large metal one with a thick padlock on it. A guard opened it to reveal a set of stairs leading to a dark cellar, the palace dungeons. It was where they held prisoners while deciding their fate.

By the time the guards had dragged her down the ill-lit set of stairs, tears were streaming down Ezerella's face and leaving black dirt stains in their wake. She numbly allowed them to throw her into a small stone cell, closed off by a door of vertical metal bars. She collapsed against the wall and slumped to the floor, the rough surface scraping her exposed skin. The cell's door slammed shut with a loud clang.

An hour must have passed in the dank, dark cell. It was so humid and reeked of mold; Ezerella wondered if the palace moat was put in place with the intention of saturating the dungeon with uncomfortable mugginess. Her muscles were beginning to ache as she slumped against the floor; her stomach began churning with both hunger and nausea. She was beginning to think she'd been left to die when the hazy orange tint of torchlight made its way toward her.

It was an older woman escorted by two palace guards, a flat circular object held horizontally in her arms. Her face was painted with dark blue pigment over her eyelids and lips, indicating she was a diviner. Ezerella had seen them in the bazaar before, selling fortunes to willing customers. She always wondered if their craft was trustworthy or not. Clearly the Ralzana believed it was, for the woman was let into the cell by the guards. She got to her knees and let the shawl around her shoulders fall to the ground, revealing a wrapped torso with more deep blue patterns painted upon her brown skin. She placed the object before her—it was a silver divination mirror.

Ezerella watched in curious confusion as the diviner waved her hands over the mirror, eyes closed as she muttered an incantation in the language of magic. Ezerella was not fluent, but she could pick out a few words. _Shashoru_ , predict. _Ramohe_ , child. Then, words most magic users knew: _amat_ and _sano_. Sun and moon. Roue and Farsu, the opposing deities. One the lion goddess, one the wolf god.

Ezerella's brow twitched in confusion. The diviner was predicting the sex of the baby.

Then she remembered. She remembered talking to Pivona three and a half months ago about the Gerudo legend of a possible Ralzan, a man of Gerudo blood to lead their people to a Golden Age. It was just a myth, though. There was no way the Ralzana, a woman of refined taste and intellect, believed such honeycoated nonsense. Was this why she required all pregnant women to see her for a "blessing?" So she could check through divination if the baby would be a girl or, miraculously, a boy?

Suddenly the woman reached out and grabbed Ezerella's wrist. She yanked it over the surface of the mirror and used a small blade to cut her palm. Ezerella let out a cry of shock and pain, watching as her blood dripped onto the flickering surface. As soon as the woman let go she pulled her hand back and looked at the wound. The diviner lifted the mirror and held it above Ezerella's head, chanting the words more ardently. She got louder and louder until finally, she stopped.

An eerie silence filled the cell. Ezerella looked at the old woman's face, whose eyes had gone wide with shock.

"What is it?" Ezerella said, still holding her cut hand. "What do you see?"

The woman said nothing else, though. She lifted the mirror and stood, turning to leave the cell. The guards let her out and locked the door behind her, escorting her back aboveground.

And then Ezerella was alone. Hours, days, weeks passed. She continued to receive a prisoner's care in the dungeon. Meals were brought to her two times a day and water three times. She was given a torch inside the chamber so she didn't have to spend her time in complete darkness, but it was not enough to keep her thoughts rational, if they'd ever been. Her mind went to all sorts of possibilities: Pivona had been killed the day they met with the Ralzana, thrown to the octoroks and like-likes living within the palace moat. That was only a rumor, but ever since Ezerella heard it she pictured the slimy, giant sea slugs wiggling along the bottom of the canal. Yes, clearly the creepy-crawlies of the water had consumed her sister. It was the only possible outcome.

Ezerella couldn't quite tell day from night in the underground chamber, her growing belly the only signifier that time was indeed passing at all. She'd reasoned that Pivona was right, that Ralzana Koume wouldn't kill a pregnant woman. But as Ezerella wracked her mind with every waking moment on how she'd gotten pregnant, she began to wonder, to allow her imagination to take the reins. This was no mere coincidence. Her life was no mere coincidence. The gods must have been looking down on her like a cat would its plaything. She'd already reasoned that her sister was dead, and she was beginning to think—to believe—she herself was dead.

So, [when the day her water broke finally came – a little wordier than needed], it passed through Ezerella's mind like a numb blur. Several palace attendants appeared and lifted her onto a cot to be transported to the infirmary. Pain coursing through her abdomen, she eventually she found herself on a raised bed, several women surrounding her and fretting over medicines and damp towels. The agony was so fierce she believed she must have been in the underworld, the place Aesis reserved for the worst of souls to be subjected to endless torment.

Hours and hours passed until the pain finally stopped. Ezerella's eyes were still blurred from tears and sweat, but she could hear the faint mewling of a newborn not far from her. She heard the women around her chatter quietly, heard the midwife gasp. When she found her voice, Ezerella heard herself croak to let her see him. She wanted to see her son.

After a moment of unsettling concern, the midwife handed Ezerella the baby. His skin was deep ebony and his head was covered in a thick, bloody mess of crimson hair. The child looked like the spitting image of its mother, and even if Ezerella could begin to recall his father's looks, she was sure she wouldn't find many of his traits in the baby's features.

Ezerella smiled and held the baby close to her chest. She looked up to see the other women watching in shock, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.

"That's impossible," the midwife muttered as if to assure herself she was hallucinating.

After another moment of incredulous, tense silence, a guard standing by the door scurried out of the chamber. Ezerella barely paid any attention to the commotion around her. She held her son close to her bosom, stroking his slick, soft head with a tender smile on her lips.

It didn't take long for the Ralzana to arrive. She stopped at the foot of the bed and gazed at mother and son with an unreadable expression. Ezerella only smiled, tightening her grasp on the bundle in her arms, and announced very plainly that his name, after the once highly revered hero of Gerudo folktale, was Ganon.

The next thing she knew, her baby was ripped from her arms. She felt the guards holding her hands down, felt her throat straining as she screamed, but couldn't hear or feel anything. It was as if the guards pulling her child from her arms were also pulling any semblance of humanity from her as well. If she wasn't dead before, she certainly was now.

She felt shackles clamp around her wrists and ankles, heard the distant rattling of chains as she was dragged from the infirmary, sweat and blood still staining her dirty clothes. As soon as the outside light hit her eyes she felt them close, two chained hands coming up to block the excess brightness. She vaguely heard the sound of a horn, the shouted words of the Ralzana, the reactional cries from a gathered crowd of Gerudo citizens… Even when she tried opening her eyes again she saw nothing but white, a swirling mist of numbing.

Someone must've kicked her, for she found herself on her knees as the sound of a horse's hooves entered the fray. A smile curled her lips. A voyage for the damned.

Her eyes were finally beginning to adjust as a guard chained her to the back of the ferry. It was an opulent-looking cart, carved and glazed with black lacquer and made to look like something Aesis himself would command. A few guards climbed in front to direct the horses while one sat on the ledge in the back, watching her every move. She felt like laughing, a small chuckle rolling from her throat. They thought death by the hands of the Arbiter would take her from her son.

"Hush, child," she whispered coarsely into the hissing wind that announced the wastes surrounding the path to the Arbiter's Grounds. "Don't cry, now."

She trudged along. Farther and farther she went, sometimes falling in the abrasive sand and coughing as it filled her lungs. The ferry didn't stop, dragging her along the ground. Each pull turned her skin to stone, her breath to sand.

And she laughed. Twilight caressed the mountainous range beyond them as the Arbiter's Grounds came into view. Her final resting place. The guards unchained her from the cart and pulled her down the dark staircase to the underground arena, the desert tomb that whispered inviting words into her ears. She was chained to a black slab of rock, left on her knees as the shackles bloodied her wrists. In front a round mirror was placed, like the one the diviner had used months ago, on a spinning stand. Torches were lit on either side of the slab, shedding just enough light for her reflection to flicker across its surface.

And yet she saw nothing. The guards turned to leave, the light faded, and she gazed at the mirror.

A gentle hand touched her chin. She looked up, brown eyes glassy. A pale Hylian man with moon-white hair and black eyes looked down at her, a sad smile on his thin lips. He leaned down, lifting her chin with his hand.

"Hello, my love," she said before he pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Through the years, Gerudo guards and palace attendants relished telling the tale of the Ralzan's birth. Yet as time went on the focus began to diverge. Many believed that the mother was forced to give birth by herself in the wretched prison cell, with only the warmth of the torch to welcome her child into the world. Some heard that Ralzana Koume checked the baby's sex herself, or that the mother simply strolled straight into the palace, past guards and warriors, and declared her son's birth without so much as a tremble. One version of the story claims that the barrower threw her son into Koume's arms and pleaded for her life.

There was a general consensus however that once Koume declared her sentence, the mother made no attempt at escape or even struggle. Koume ordered the guards to seize the baby and the mother, whose name, until the day Koume died, she could not remember.

Koume had not witnessed the procession of humiliation. Only the truly monstrous heretics warranted the Ralzana's presence, and she did not want to give the impression that she was shaken by a peasant's actions. Of course she had been pacing her bedchamber back and forth, one hand covering her thin lips in a very pensive expression. A boy? Was it really possible? She'd always externally believed that a Ralzan would save her people, but now that a son had actually been born… Was this new boy, this Ganon, to be the next ruling Ralzan of the Gerudo? A peasant boy by blood? Her heart raced as she toyed with her gold earrings idly, contemplating the fate of this innocent child.

The baby had been brought to her bathing chamber when the mother was seized and shackled. A guard stood inside, ever at the ready, while Koume paced in front of the door. She was indeed torn. If this bastard of a child were to be the next Ralzan, she would be damned for the rest of eternity for getting rid of it. But to accept the fact that the lowest peasant within her walls was the birth mother was simply not something Koume could tolerate. And there was certainly no way she could convince her people that the baby was of her own descent.

Koume eventually decided to bring the baby as far away from the valley as possible. If he were the true Ralzan, he would find his way back and claim the throne. But if he were simply another bastard child of some Hylian outside the desert, then he would be so for the rest of his life.

Nodding to herself on the plan, Koume turned and entered the room where the baby boy was crying. His pained expression suggested a longing for his mother, and Koume looked down on him with something quite new in her heart: sympathy.

"Leave," she said to the guard, who turned and shut the chamber door behind her.

Koume lifted the bundle to her chest, hushing at first with a sense of anxious urgency. But as the baby quieted, the hushing turned into a soft cooing and the Ralzana lightly cradled the infant in her arms. "Little Ganon," she whispered on occasion, brushing a long finger against the boy's cheek. It became apparent to her in the following moments that she could not simply leave a baby Gerudo boy at someone's doorstep. No, this babe would remain with her.

Her first instinct was to rename him, give him a fully royal name and not the name of some hallucinating barrow girl. But Ganon had a strong sound, and the Ralzana had already begun referring to him as "Little Ganon." So Koume remembered her mother's name, the Ralzana before her, Dorfena. The name always sounded rather elegant to Koume, and she found the combination of strength and elegance quite appealing. A smile in her eyes, the princess whispered, "Ganondorf Dragmire," and brought the new king's forehead to her lips.


	7. Awakening I

**A/N: For those of you keeping watch, so sorry for the delay. I recently graduated college and got a new puppy and I'm currently looking for an apartment. But I managed to get this chapter finished! Thanks again to Whimsical Acumen for beta support. Enjoy the first chapter of Awakening! (Also if anyone comes up with a better name for this part, please let me know OTL)**

* * *

 _10 years later..._

I

"If you continue to parry like that, the leevers will turn you into a Stalchild in no time."

Ganondorf's fist tightened around the hilt of his scimitar, dragging the curved, pointed edge along the sandy training ground as he took a stumbling step backward. His chest gleamed in the dry heat of the desert, his scarlet hair tied back to keep it out of his eyes. He glared at his instructor, Rumalia, breathing heavily from exertion.

"I'm not a child," he said before lunging forward, jabbing the scimitar in front of him so that the point was less than a foot away from her. She stepped away nimbly and turned lightly on her feet until Ganondorf felt the firm, hard thud of a wooden sword on his back. He fell to his knees, dropping the scimitar with a grunt more of frustration than pain.

"You have the foolish determination of one," said Rumalia flatly.

Ganondorf looked up, jaw clenched, at the tall, fit woman. Her skin was lighter than most, and her ears a little more pointed. Unlike most Gerudo, she kept her red hair short so that it never fell into her eyes or became trapped in an enemy's snares.

"Get up. Try again."

The young Gerudo prince grit his teeth and stood, brushing the sand from his knees and palms. He went to pick up his sword, but couldn't find it. He turned around hastily to see a girl about his age with similar features to Rumalia's, although her bright red hair was quite long and tied up. A wicked grin was on her face as she pointed his sword toward him.

"Come _on_ , Ganondorf," she said, lowering the sword with an exaggerated expression of frustration. "How is it you're so _bad_ at this?"

Ganondorf turned his glare on her, but it quickly transformed into a playful grin. "Give it back, Nab," he said, lunging for her.

She stepped out of the way just as lightly as the instructor did, giggling profusely as Ganondorf grabbed at the air.

"Nabooru." The two of them stopped at Rumalia's stern voice and looked up at her. "Give him his weapon."

Ganondorf smirked, holding his hand out for Nabooru to do as she was told. The girl made a face of displeasure as she did so, placing the hilt of the scimitar in Ganondorf's outstretched palm. They turned toward their instructor, arms held tightly to their sides in militaristic fashion.

"You two must learn to treat each other with respect," said Rumalia when she was satisfied they'd concluded their mischief. "There will come a time when you, Nabooru, will need to take orders from the young Ralzan."

Ganondorf shifted his gaze to the point in the sand where he'd dropped his scimitar. Rumalia was always good at reminding him that he simply didn't have time to be an ordinary ten-year-old boy. In fact, everywhere he looked he had a constant reminder: he was the only ten-year-old boy around.

Nabooru glanced at Ganondorf. "I know, Mother," she said after a moment.

Rumalia gave her one last stern look before she raised her weapon, a much larger sword than the practice ones Ganondorf and Nabooru were using. "Soon we will begin using two weapons," she said, "and that requires both a thorough understanding of one-handed swordplay and a whole new school of thought. Ganondorf, I expect you to practice your parrying until our next lesson. You must be proficient with one blade before we can move on to two."

Ganondorf nodded, keeping his eyes averted from the instructor's gaze.

"Does that mean we're done today?" Nabooru said excitedly, face lighting up. "Can we go to the market?"

A smile broke Rumalia's usually stern face as she placed her weapon on the rack behind her. "You are finished," she said, holding her hands out to collect their swords. "You may go, but Ganondorf will have to return to the palace first." She turned to the Ralzan. "Your mother is waiting for you."

Ganondorf looked at Nabooru with a mildly disappointed expression. He loved spending time with Nabooru, especially in the central bazaar. They played a game where he would throw a face sash over his head and shoulders and try to convince vendors he wasn't the young Ralzan, Nabooru giggling in the background all the while. They would spend their allowances on little handmade trinkets from the poorer peasants, who would always offer them their meager wares for free. Ganondorf would return home having spent very little money, adorned with shoddily-crafted bracelets and necklaces. At first he merely thought the merchants were being nice to their prince. But the older he got, the more he noticed their anxious expressions and keenness to send him on his way. He imagined it had something to do with why his mother had begun restricting his access outside the palace when he turned ten. Ever since he noticed the growing change he had expressed a keen interest on spending time with Nabooru, the Chief of Military's daughter.

"It's not fun without Ganon," said Nabooru.

"The Ralzan," Rumalia said sternly, turning a hard look on her daughter, "has important matters to attend to."

Ganondorf watched as Nabooru turned to leave the training grounds.

"He's not Ralzan yet," she muttered.

Rumalia turned to Ganondorf. "Let's go, little prince."

"I don't need protection," he said.

Rumalia chuckled, hauling a satchel around her torso. "It's not for protection." She patted his shoulder, nudging him slightly. "Let's go."

Ganondorf followed the chief away from the training grounds, as well as the main streets of the city. Whenever he was escorted anywhere, his chaperone would always have them avoid the public eye. It bothered him; he enjoyed watching the children scurry along underfoot, listening to the types of conversations ordinary people had. He was so sick of his private lessons held within the palace, taking great enjoyment from any time he spent outside with Nabooru. She was the only "normal" person with whom he was allowed to interact. But most of all Ganondorf liked roaming the public streets in search of someone, _anyone_ who was like him.

He wouldn't be going to the market today, however. Rumalia kept glancing behind her shoulder to make sure the Ralzan was still following. He knew he couldn't escape her watchful eye. Nabooru would have to explore the adobe streets alone.

They walked up the palace steps, ignoring the bowing guards on either side. When Ganondorf was a few years younger, he loved the palace. There was always some hidden corner to investigate, to hide in when he was shirking his lessons. New rooms always needed discovering, filled with books and ceramics and tapestries and servants. One of his favorite discoveries was that of a tall black statue of an upright, six-eyed half-dog half-human with a raven's beak, and a red diamond-shaped jewel implanted in its forehead. He hadn't seen anything like it before, but he remembered feeling a surge of the kind of respect that was accompanied by fear when he first laid eyes on it. The eyes, although hollow pits of darkness, seemed to peer directly into the very fiber of his being. He found himself unable to look away. When he asked about it, Mother Koume told him it was Aesis, the God of Death, who was honored by burial rites and sacrifices.

And magic. Or so Mother Koume said. He'd heard from Rumalia that once upon a time Roue, the Sun Goddess, was responsible for the magic in the world, but his mother had found a way to convince several followers that this was not the case. Magic belonged in the same domain as war and death, and thus belonged to the god of such things. Ganondorf knew she said that to try and dissuade him from using magic, but looking up at the fierce canine statue, bare chest resembling no Gerudo he'd ever seen, he felt more intrigued than intimidated.

When Ganondorf asked his mother about magic, her response was a short, curt "no." He was to spend his time learning the history of his people and the desert itself, studying ways to conduct conversation so not as to offend anyone and how to eat and sit and smile properly. He found the lessons incredibly dull and discovered a refuge in his sword fighting lessons with Nabooru; if he had to spend so much time doing things his mother deemed necessary, he at least wanted to spend the pleasant parts with his only friend.

Rumalia stopped them in front of the private chamber where Ganondorf had his writing and history lessons. He heard soft discussion from within and looked up at the chief.

"They're waiting for you," she said.

Ganondorf pushed open the hard wooden door and stepped inside. Mother Koume was seated at the large table, talking across to someone with sand-colored hair, steeply pointed ears, and pale skin. The stocky facial features, excess of coarse-looking hair, and thick torso made Ganondorf narrow his eyes in confusion. This person was bigger than his mother, than anyone Ganondorf had seen. The only thing that came to mind was the statue of Aesis that had just as thick a chest as the person before him. This person was _different_.

"Ganondorf," said Koume softly, smiling at him with both kind and excited eyes. "This man is called Reshin. He is going to teach you Hylian."

"Hello," said Reshin in the Gerudo tongue. His words were somewhat stiff and rigid. "It's nice to meet you, Ganondorf."

The Ralzan eyed him skeptically before looking at his mother. "Hylian?"

"It is important for you to learn such a common language," said Koume. "For when you negotiate with those outside the desert." She shifted slightly in her seat. "And I thought it would be beneficial for you to spend time with someone like you."

"We have much to discuss," said Reshin, seemingly avoiding the eye contact of everyone in the room, especially the four guards positioned at the entrance. Ganondorf didn't like how this person spoke. The words seemed wrong.

"What do you mean 'like me'?"

Koume smiled. "He's a 'he,' like you."

Ganondorf stared at this man for a good while. He knew he wasn't alone in the world—the Gerudo mythology housed many stories of male heroes, including his own namesake. He knew there were male visitors, knew that some of them stayed within city walls, but they often left for feeling too estranged. He'd never had the chance to see one, let alone talk to one.

"What does that mean?" he said suddenly.

"That's something you and I will talk about," Reshin said, "when you are ready. For now, I'm going to teach you how to speak and write Hylian."

"You're Hylian then?" said Ganondorf.

"Yes."

"I've never seen a Hylian before."

Reshin laughed, albeit stiffly, and Ganondorf saw his mother shift a little uncomfortably. The Hylian appeared to not know what to say, mouth working wordlessly. Eventually he sighed.

"Your mother tells me you never really had trouble understanding how you're different from the rest of the Gerudo," he said. "But I can give you an even deeper understanding."

When Ganondorf said nothing, Koume leaned toward him. "This man is going to help you, Ganon."

"Why can't _you_ teach me Hylian?" said the Ralzan.

"It will be better for you to learn from a native speaker. Besides, you need to know that you are different," said Koume, "but that does not mean you are alone."

Ganondorf glared from his mother to Reshin, to his mother again. "I know I'm not alone," he said. "And I don't need help."

Koume shifted in her seat uncomfortably before glancing at Reshin. "You'll need to be able to speak Hylian rather proficiently when you are older. Reshin here is the best teacher for you." She stood, straightening the shawl hanging off her shoulders. "We will give you the room. Ganondorf, I expect your best behavior for our guest."

Ganondorf watched behind heavy eyebrows as his mother and the four guards left the room. He knew the guards would be stationed right outside the door; they only had the illusion of privacy.

The Hylian folded his hands in his lap and smiled at Ganondorf with pale blue eyes. "Why don't we just talk for a little bit?" he said. He then gestured to the chair Koume had previously occupied.

Ganondorf continued staring at him as he slouched into the chair.

"Have you met any of the men in the city before?" Reshin asked.

Ganondorf shook his head.

"Have you seen them?"

He shook his head again.

"Right. So I'm the first man you've met."

"In real life."

Reshin's brow twitched. "What do you mean?"

"There are people like you in my dreams," said Ganondorf. "And Mother Koume tells me stories about Ganon and Navoor, and even some from outside the desert."

"The men you see in your dreams," Reshin said, "are they like you? Or do they look like me?"

Ganondorf thought for a moment. "Neither," he said.

Reshin looked curious, but he leaned back and cleared his throat. "I guess it doesn't matter." He smiled. "How much do you know about the land beyond the desert?"

"I know it's got grass."

Reshin chuckled. "Yes, it does. And rivers, and mountains, and many different kinds of people. They all learn Hylian too."

"Why? What's so special about Hylian?"

Reshin paused, contemplating. "There's a castle east of the lake beyond the mountains. About a day's travel time. The man in the castle is trying to unite all of the provinces in the land, and in order for all of us to be one kingdom, we need to speak the same language. Hylian is the man's language."

Ganondorf thought for a moment. "Are there many men outside the desert?"

Reshin smiled. "Yes. There are as many men as there are women. That's why your mother asked me to teach you. Like she said, you're different from the rest of the Gerudo, but there are plenty of people in the world like you."

Ganondorf leaned back in the chair and turned his gaze to a clay pot in the corner of the room. He knew he was different—of course he was. Everyone treated him with a delicate, almost fearful attitude, and not just because he was to be Ralzan of the Gerudo. Everyone, except Nabooru, seemed to eye him suspiciously when they thought he wouldn't notice, even his mother. It was like he was some anomaly that needed explaining. He looked and talked differently from everyone else, _felt_ different, he could tell. He had no idea though why his being different meant this "man" had to teach him Hylian instead of his mother.

"Okay," he said quietly. He straightened his spine, lifted his shoulders slightly.

"I'm sure you'll be speaking perfect Hylian in no time," said Reshin. "And I want you to know that if you have any questions about the mainland, or about being a young man, you're very welcome to talk to me."

Ganondorf looked at the Hylian again. He nodded.

"Wonderful." Reshin reached down and placed a folio on the table. "This is the Hylian alphabet. I've made references to the Gerudo alphabet so they're easy for you to translate. I want you to take a look at it."

Ganondorf reached for the folio and untied the leather strap. Inside was a column of Gerudo letters, next to a column of foreign symbols. They were square and angular, nothing like the curved, elegant symbols of the Gerudo language. They reminded him of the square-shaped man in front of him, nothing like the graceful figures of the Gerudo people.

"You can take it," Reshin said. "We won't have a lesson today. I'm glad we talked, though."

Ganondorf took the folio and stood up. He nodded toward Reshin before pulling open the large wooden door to the room and stepping outside.

Walking straight past the guards, who watched him with bemused expressions, Ganondorf strolled straight down the arched hall. He called for his personal attendant, a middle-aged woman named Meira. He shouted her name and listened as it echoed across the marble walls, the high, painted ceilings. Within minutes, the woman was at his side. Her hair was the darkest shade of red possible which she kept in a thick braid. A face sash of white made only her amber eyes visible.

"Yes, my prince?" she said.

"I'm going to the stables," said Ganondorf.

"I believe the Ralzana wanted you inside the palace this afternoon," Meira said, tone sharp. "You're to meet with Mr. Reshin." She wasn't like the other palace attendants, who uncertainly did whatever Ganondorf said. She'd nursed both him and Nabooru when they were infants, and thus acted like a stern aunt toward him. She was not exempt from regarding him with a guarded stare on occasion, however.

"I already talked to her."

Meira's brow twitched. "Who?"

"The man," Ganondorf muttered. "She's not… _He's_ not teaching me today."

Meira sighed. "It doesn't matter. You're not going anywhere, little Ralzan. You're to stay put until I've spoken with your mother."

"Please?" Ganondorf looked up at her with a pleading expression.

Meira sighed again. "All right. But you be back before supper or your mother will have my head."

Ganondorf handed her the folio and began walking down the hall as she finished speaking. He turned to the right and ran down the wide corridor to the palace foyer, where several guards stood on duty. Directly past the entrance was a sectioned-off pathway leading to the palace stables, lined with spindly bushes and vibrant desert flowers.

Along the western length of the palace was the wooden stable, smelling of sweet oats and dung. Ganondorf strolled inside, past all the stable hands mucking out the stalls and refilling water buckets, past the rows of horses with tails flicking beetles from their flanks. He kept walking until he came across a stunning black mare who began snorting as he approached. The name "Wrana" was emblazoned on a saddle hanging on the wall of the stall.

A smile adorned Ganondorf's face. When he first saw Wrana he and Nabooru had been patrolling the palace grounds, acting like Ralzan and Ralzana, giving orders to the guards who simply smiled and went about their duties. They marched past the stable where a woman was complaining about a horse, a mare that was only taking up space. Nabooru, curious as ever, went up to the woman and asked in the most royal-sounding tone she could muster who the mare belonged to. Absolutely no one, the woman had said. She had no idea where it even came from.

"Well then," said the young girl, "from this point on, the black mare will belong to his royal majesty, Ralzan Ganondorf!"

Seeing as Ganondorf actually was the young Ralzan, the two arguing women looked around in mild confusion before relinquishing ownership of the horse. Later that day Ganondorf told his mother the news and she simply dismissed it with a wave of her hand; Wrana was his.

Ganondorf sat down on the wooden stool beside the black horse and began running a thistle brush across her shining coat. She calmed down as soon as he knotted his fingers in her mane, ochre eyes glinting like topaz when the sun hit them.

"The little prince has a lot on his mind."

Ganondorf nearly dropped the brush as he whipped his head around, seeking out the source of the voice. Usually the stable hands left him alone when he visited.

After a moment a woman stepped into view, hands behind her back and feet bare on the mucky floor. She seemed to be dancing toward him, light on her feet like one of the ghostly spirits Ganondorf saw in his dreams. The ragged clothes that hung off her shoulders indicated she was not at home in the palace district.

"Who are you?" Ganondorf said, voice firm. "How did you get in here?"

"I work here," said the woman. "My name is Valamoora."

Ganondorf's eyes narrowed. He'd heard the name before, but he couldn't remember where. "You don't look like a stable hand."

Valamoora pressed a hand to Wrana's flank, brushing with an unsettling intensity. It made Ganondorf uneasy.

"You don't look like a Gerudo," she said quietly.

Ganondorf felt his brow furrow as he stared at the strange woman. He wanted to tell her that she couldn't talk to him like that, but something about her presence made him stay his tongue. She seemed to know much more about him than she was letting on.

"What did you mean I have a lot on my mind?" he said.

"I can tell things," said Valamoora. "I know when people are happy, when they're sad, when they are in pain…" She stepped closer to him. "When they fight inner demons and desires."

Ganondorf's eyes flickered to the pendant hanging around Valamoora's neck. It looked like a guay's head carved from black stone. It reminded him of Aesis, without the ears and six eyes. A purple gem was positioned on its forehead.

Valamoora lifted the pendant and brushed a lithe finger along its smooth contours. "I can see where your heart belongs," she said.

"You don't know me." Ganondorf returned his attention to Wrana and ran the brush along her sleek pelt.

And then the brush was out of his hands. He reached for it, but it had already floated too high above his head. Eyes wide, he watched as it gently drifted back down and began brushing the horse's flank on its own. He looked at Valamoora, who had a hand slightly raised and a grin on her thin lips.

A witch. She was no stable hand; she was a witch. And if Ganondorf knew anything about his mother, it was that she hated witches.

"Stop that," he said.

Valamoora chuckled. "Are you sure you don't want to know how to do it yourself?"

Ganondorf bit his lip. "The Ralzan isn't supposed to practice magic."

"Because Koume says so?"

The brush floated back into Ganondorf's hand. He stared at it, heart pounding in excitement.

Before Ganondorf could say anything, Valamoora spoke. "Accept the Hylian lessons from Reshin. You need to learn Hylian if you are to be a sorcerer."

Ganondorf wanted to ask how she knew about Reshin or the Hylian lessons, but he had a feeling she wouldn't tell him the truth.

"Why do I need to learn Hylian to be a sorcerer?" he said.

"There are no spell books in Gerudo, my prince," said Valamoora. "You can learn little magic tricks here and there, but to become a grand sorcerer, you must look outside the desert."

With another wave of her hands, a dark dust seemed to gather before her. It materialized into a black book bound with metal clasps, a raven insignia adorning the cover. She pushed it gently toward him. It was heavy and yet light with the strong presence of magic around it, like some unfelt, mystical wind were keeping it afloat.

"What is this?" he asked, lifting the book in his hands.

"My first Hylian spell book," said Valamoora. She held it out to him with a bowed head. "I make a gift of it, my prince."

Ganondorf glanced at the book. He knew his mother would scold him for bringing home something like that and demand to know where he got it. If he said Reshin had given it to him, the Hylian would be expelled from the desert forever. He certainly couldn't tell her about the strange witch who approached him in the stables, and in no way wanted his only source of magical knowledge to be exiled from the city walls.

"Your mother doesn't approve of sorcery," she said, making Ganondorf wonder just how much she could perceive inside his mind. "She has her reasons. You, little prince, mustn't let her dictate the path you choose."

Ganondorf opened the thick cover and ran a hand over the yellowed parchment. He turned the page and moved his eyes over the foreign symbols, the same ones he saw earlier with Reshin.

When he looked back up to thank Valamoora, she was already gone, leaving nothing but the faint whisper of a hummed tune to stir the quiet.

Later that night, Ganondorf sat in his private room, legs folded atop a floor cushion. Valamoora's book was open on his lap; he gazed longingly at the pictures of mainland gems, strange leever-like animals with gigantic petals on their heads, even humanoid species with flippers for hands and feet. He wanted to know everything—not just about Hylian or magic, but about the world. The mainland. He was sick of seeing nothing but desert all day long, nothing but people who constantly reminded him of how different he was. Besides Nabooru, Valamoora was the first person to first lay eyes on him with something other than confusion, shock, fear. They held something new within them: promise.

Someone knocked on the door and the Ralzana entered, a gentle smile on her gold-painted lips. Ganondorf returned his attention to the book.

"What do you have there, Ganondorf?" Koume said, walking up to him and peering over his shoulder. "Is that a book Reshin gave you?" When Ganondorf said nothing, she knelt down beside him. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "What is this?"

"It's a spell book," Ganondorf said.

"Where did you get that?"

"I found it."

"Give that to me."

Ganondorf looked at her. "Why?"

"Because magic is not for princes."

Koume reached for the book and pulled at it, but Ganondorf pulled back, snatching it from her hands. She stared at him, eyes smoldering with anger.

"Ganondorf, give me that book right now."

"It's not like I can read it," Ganondorf muttered, holding it to his chest.

"I don't want it inside the palace," Koume said, each word emphasized carefully. "If you don't give me the book right now, you won't be allowed outside this room for three days. Do you understand me?"

"I don't care if a Ralzan shouldn't learn magic," Ganondorf said. "I want to. Why can't I? All you've ever said is that it's not respectable, but I don't care about that."

Koume paused, gazing at Ganondorf angrily. She sighed. "It's dangerous. It's reserved for warmongers and dictators and… I won't have my son setting everything on fire!"

"I'll be careful! I promise I won't set anything on fire."

"You are my son and you will listen to me!" Heat was beginning to radiate off of her skin, and Ganondorf leaned away from her. It happened every time she let anger get the best of her.

"How am I supposed to be Ralzan if I only ever do what people tell me to do?" Ganondorf said.

"You're not Ralzan! You're a prince! A child! I will not have my son using magic!"

Ganondorf grit his teeth together, seething in anger. Before he could stop himself he said coolly, "I hate you."

Koume's eyes widened before she put a hand to her forehead, closing them. Without another word she turned and left the chamber, slamming the door shut behind her. Ganondorf heard the wooden bar slide into place, locking him inside and leaving him to the book in his hands and the night wind blowing in through a window.

"I'll teach myself," he muttered.

Ganondorf wrapped a thick blanket around his shoulders and held a candle closer to the pages. After a moment he stared at the flickering flame, gold eyes narrowed in curiosity. He snapped his fingers, and the flame went out.


	8. Awakening II

II

Koume sat by the window, impatiently nibbling on the nail of her right thumb. Her delicately arched crimson eyebrows were slightly furrowed as she gazed at the city below her: people were going about their normal activities, albeit with a slight air of…uncertainty. The Ralzana felt it too, the strange feeling of unease that hadn't ceased since she announced the presence of her son. Ganondorf, the first Ralzan prince in living memory. It was clear to her people that he was not Koume's trueborn child—that she gathered well from her sentries' reports—but he was certainly Gerudo, and no one was about to question the Ralzana. Publically, all cheered at the prospect of a Ralzan, if only because they didn't want to be seen as a heretic. Those who disapproved, with hesitation in their desert-colored eyes, held their tongues.

Ten years had passed and her people were now relaxed for the most part. Although the palace attendants and personal handmaidens were not experienced in caring for young boys, they found the prince behaved as any normal child would. As an infant he had many of the same characteristics as a baby girl; it wasn't until he began shoving a little harshly that Koume's anxiety heightened. She regretted having to separate him from his usual playmates when he turned five, and she found that she did so more out of fear for his aggressive nature than anything else. She acted as a mother toward him, and for all he knew she actually was. But every now and then she would regard her adoptive son with the same unease as the swarm of citizens on the streets below. This _boy_ simply felt out-of-place in a city of women. And no matter how much Koume had grown to truly love him as her own, she still wondered how he would come to understand his surroundings.

She was wary of Reshin, one of the Hylian men brought into the city by her finest stealth warriors. His group was originally intended to serve as fathers to other Gerudo children a few months from now, but Koume had requested a more intellectual batch this time around to choose someone to serve as Ganondorf's… "father" now. She thought it'd be good for the young prince. Even in the few interactions she'd seen, he seemed to observe the Hylian's every move, mimic even his nervous ticks—pressing a finger to his lips when he contemplated something or leaning back in his chair when he felt in control of the situation. The memory forced Koume to take several deep breaths, nearly unable to stifle the feeling of inadequacy building up inside her. She had not anticipated how the prince's assimilation would affect her. Regardless, a masculine role model would provide a perspective for him that he couldn't get anywhere else. Still, Ganondorf attended his lessons with a cool gloaming of emotion; Koume knew that out of everything in her son's life, this foreign entity would be the most difficult to comprehend.

As Koume sat by the window, chewing her fingernails, concern for her son was not the only thing on her mind. She was waiting for someone, and she hated waiting. It always rendered her uncomfortable and restless, as if the time between were an arbitrary sentence inflicted upon her. It was especially unsettling now, considering how much precious time she was wasting. The whole situation unearthed old worries and unwelcome memories for Koume. She wondered if she were making a mistake.

Koume sighed. She had tried so hard to hide her past from Ganondorf. She made it a priority to keep his focus away from what she now imagined inevitable. She'd denied her son sorcery lessons for months now, hoping he'd lose interest. She even allowed him to take sword combat lessons with Rumalia's daughter. Then she found him toying with the flames in his bedroom and levitating priceless ceramics in the air.

After isolating him in his room, she conducted an extensive search for whoever was teaching him—even accused Reshin of doing so. The Hylian, in a fit of terror, promised he had absolutely no knowledge when it came to magic, leaving Koume with the dreadful assumption that her son was somehow teaching himself. Both options—someone teaching him or being incredibly adept at the craft already—frightened Koume half to death, and she decided that if there was no stopping Ganondorf learning something so dangerous, it would have to be on her terms. And there was only one person she trusted enough to teach him.

A knock at the door jolted Koume out of her musings. She looked over at the door from the window. "Come in."

The door opened and a handmaiden stepped inside with a pleasant smile. "Ralzana, she has arrived."

"Send her in," Koume said.

The servant stepped aside and a tall, slender woman entered the room. She was dressed in what Koume considered ratty clothes, with brown-and-green wool cloth draped over her shoulders and across her waist. A plethora of handmade jewelry adorned her neck and wrists, beaded with unpolished stones and animal bones. Her scarlet hair was tied up above her head with vines and thorns, and her skin had multiple piercings in her ears, lips, and eyebrows. Underneath the striking appearance and foreign attire, she was indeed Gerudo with dark skin, red hair, and golden yellow eyes. Most striking of all, she was practically an exact duplicate of Koume.

"Kotake," Koume said with a polite smile as she got to her feet.

Kotake's lips, painted a dark purple, did not twitch. "Hello, sister." Her voice mirrored Koume's precisely.

"How long has it been?" Koume said.

"How long have you been Ralzana?" Kotake held her sister's gaze relentlessly. Icily.

Koume nodded with a sense of unease. "Sixteen years now."

"Quite a while, indeed."

A moment passed and Koume motioned toward a cushioned seat. Kotake did not move. Koume took an anxious step forward, expression turning somewhat pleading. "Where did you go, Kotake?" she said, voice lowered as if she wanted no one else to hear. "What happened to you?"

Kotake took to wandering about the room, a slight dance in her step, fiddling with the trinkets on the tables and pillows on the chairs. She looked bored, but as much as she pretended, Koume knew each object she picked up was done so in intrigue. Twins had a way of knowing these things.

"I chose sorcery over leadership," said Kotake simply. "You know that."

Koume watched her from where she stood. "You didn't need to leave the desert."

"It was my choice," said Kotake. She picked up a golden bracelet, eyed it with an air of annoyance, and put it back down. "You know I was never one for the extravagancies of royalty."

"But not one visit?" Koume said. "In sixteen years? You didn't even come to Mother's funeral."

"I'm sure Mother wouldn't have noticed."

Koume felt her skin begin to flush. "Don't say that. You know that's not true."

Kotake looked at her sister, unsmiling. "Well I'm here now," she said. "You made it clear that whatever is going in your life is more important to you than your pride, so I'm here."

Koume stifled a smirk. She knew that she could win her sister over with such a deed, since she was never one to abandon curiosity at someone else's actions.

Koume walked through a tall arch that led onto a balcony overlooking the bazaar. She rested her hands on the stone ledge and smiled to herself when she felt Kotake follow her out. She spared her sister the details on how the wooden table on the balcony was imported from the land of Faron to the south. It would only make her roll her eyes.

"I have a son," she said.

Kotake was gazing over the balcony ledge until she heard her sister speak. She looked at her with narrowed eyes, clearly trying to figure out her words.

"A _what_?" she said.

Koume didn't look at Kotake, smiling at the gentle breeze in the air. "His name is Ganondorf. He is ten years old."

She heard Kotake clear her throat, heard her ragged clothing rustle under moving arms. "Was the curse lifted?" the sorcerer said. "I saw no male Gerudo on my way into the city."

"It was not lifted, no," said Koume. "But I have a son."

She looked at Kotake, who said nothing for quite some time. They couldn't hear anything from the streets below, they were so high up. When Koume glanced down, she saw her people as they were minutes before, when her sister came into the room, not a clue in the world what was happening.

"You waited ten years to tell me you have a _son_?" Kotake said finally. "How is that even possible?"

Koume looked at her sister, still leaning against the balcony's wide ledge. "I didn't think you'd believe me." She paused. "You must remember Mother's little fairytales."

"Yes, I do, but that's all they were: fairytales. How is it true?"

Koume smiled, nostalgia glossing over her gold eyes. "I so desperately wanted to believe her stories. I guess as I grew older it became a necessity."

Kotake's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"I prayed to Tama, Farsu, Roue… I pleaded for a boy. An heir to the Gerudo throne. I made many trips to the mainland in search for a worthy father…"

"And you found one."

Koume opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it. She wondered how her sister would react. Sixteen years was a long time, long enough for even the worst of villains to have a change of heart. Kotake's curtness was not entirely unexpected, but still make Koume's brow furrow. It seemed she couldn't accurately gauge her sister's response to anything anymore, regardless of the tight bond they once shared.

"I did," she said simply.

"Where is he now?" said Kotake.

"He knew what his purpose was," Koume said. "He respected my wishes to raise my child on my own."

The suspicion in Kotake's eyes did not waver, but she didn't pry any further. Instead, she said quietly, "So there will be a Ralzan."

Koume nodded.

"Well that's wonderful news. News I'm sure you could have included in your letter, saving me a trip."

Koume's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Kotake, "I don't see why this information warrants my presence."

"That's not why I've asked you here," Koume said in frustration. She was losing patience with her sister. "So if you would please put your minute grudges aside, I will tell you."

It was clear Koume's willingness to let go of the past swayed her sister. The two went to take a seat at the wooden table, sheltered by a stone awning. Kotake's skin glistened with sweat; it was a jarring reminder of how long she'd spent without the desert's hot sun beating down on her.

"Ganondorf wishes to take lessons in sorcery," said Koume.

Kotake smiled for the first time since her arrival. It was a sneer of a smile, one that boasted something. "Does he now?"

"You realize what this means, don't you?" said Koume.

"He is only a boy," said Kotake. "By the time he needs to make the decision, he might not even be interested in becoming a sorcerer anymore."

"That's not what happened with us. We both wanted to be sorcerers at a young age, and look what happened."

"Mother chose you," Kotake said, voice turning cold once more.

Koume exhaled her exasperation. "It tore us apart, Kotake. The choice between sorcery and becoming Ralzana…"

"There were also two of us," Kotake said. "Ganondorf is only one boy. If he truly is the Ralzan of Mother's stories, then he will make the right decision."

"I don't want him to resent me."

Kotake laughed softly. "That's what this is about? Your motherly instincts wanting to spoil your child?"

Koume hammered her palm down on the table. Kotake looked at her with widened eyes. "He is my son. _My son_." Her blood was boiling beneath her skin.

Kotake smiled, somewhat maliciously. Her eyes were searching Koume's relentlessly for some hidden secret. "There's the fire I once knew."

Koume relaxed and put a hand to her forehead, sighing. "I want you to teach him."

"What about the conversation we just had?" Kotake said.

"Just give him a few beginner lessons," said Koume. "Enough to satisfy his interest in sorcery. I'd do it myself, but I stopped taking lessons as soon as Mother named me heir to her throne. Besides…" She bit her lip, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say.

Kotake laughed. "I was always the better sorcerer anyway."

Koume was silent for a brief moment before saying, "So will you do it?"

Kotake leaned back in her cushioned seat, gazing out over the ledge and fanning herself with an outstretched palm. "I haven't much missed the sand, or the scorching heat," she said.

Koume felt the impending fear that this had all been for naught.

Then Kotake smiled. "I'll teach him."

Koume smiled with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

"So when do I get to meet the little miracle?"

"He's at his sword fighting lesson. He'll want to roam the streets with his companion afterward." Koume paused, a light smile lifting her lips. "You can stay in your old room."

Kotake's brow twitched. "You haven't used it for something else?"

"I have, but it can be cleared in no time."

"I don't want a servant waiting on my every step if I'm to live here." Kotake pointed at her sister sternly. "I'm serious. There are conditions to my staying here."

"Anything."

"I want to live my own life while I'm here. No fancy jewels or complicated dresses."

Koume glanced at the shabby outfit her sister wore and stifled a grimace. "Fine."

"I will not be the sister of the Ralzana. If people are going to fear me, I want it to be due to my magic abilities." She grinned.

Koume laughed. It was as if the dull-edged grudge that had once ached in her sister's absence was finally melting. "Understood." She paused, smiling. "Welcome home, sister."

* * *

Koume strode down the lengthy corridor, almost as wide as it was long, soft sandals making her steps virtually silent. Her gold face sash was tied up above her ears, signifying to all those who dipped their heads in her direction that she was headed to meet with her guest, the only one in the city who had the distinct "privilege" of residing within the palace. It was mostly for security reasons, but if he was to be somewhat of a father figure to Ganondorf, he may as well take up residency close to him.

The Ralzana eventually stopped midway down the hall and turned to the wooden door on her left. A guard stood quietly beside it and dipped her head to Koume. She then turned and knocked three times before opening the door.

Koume stepped inside to see Reshin hunched over a large, old book from the palace library, several loose pages and a quill pen spread out around him on a wooden table. He looked up and stood quickly, bowing deeply at his waist.

"Ralzana," he said. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Koume smiled, waving her hand gently to dismiss his gesture. "I trust you've been distinctly aware of my distance since you began teaching my son Hylian."

Reshin nodded. Koume sat in the chair across him, glancing around at the state of the apartment. It was filled with books, probably more than she'd ever read in her lifetime. Some were open, splayed out on the handwoven rug in the center of the floor. Some were stacked up taller than Koume stood, filling shelves and overcoming every surface available. Full access to the palace library was a sort of offering she'd made in order to make him more comfortable while under lock and key.

It had been a little over three months since Ganondorf's Hylian lessons began and she'd made a point of letting the men have their space. Of course, that didn't mean she took her eyes off Reshin completely. She gathered reports from the guards stationed outside his room regularly. This was the first time she approached him personally.

"I've spoken to Ganondorf about what he's learning," Koume said, watching the pale Hylian man fidget lightly in his seat. "He's told me some very fascinating things."

"He's truly a bright and curious child, Ralzana," said the Hylian. Thin-wired glasses rested on his pointed nose. "I must thank you again for this opportunity. The palace library is teeming with texts I never knew existed during my studies outside the desert. The libraries at Bluewell only have so much in the way of Gerudo lore and history."

Koume smiled her polite smile, hands resting on her lap. "I'm glad you find it all so riveting."

"More than riveting," said Reshin. "Enlightening. Astonishing. My colleagues are sure to be immensely jealous of the research I'll be conducting over the next few years."

"While I'm…pleased that you have taken to examining my people like insects under a glass, your first priority should be the wellbeing of my son," Koume said. "I believe I made myself very clear of that when you first entered the city."

Reshin's pale face clouded over in a pinkish hue. "Of course, Ralzana. I meant no disrespect. Ganondorf is progressing rather well, if I say so myself. He has the Hylian alphabet memorized, even the characters designated for nuance. If I'm not mistaken, I'd say he's starting to enjoy it."

"Yes, I've had him recite what he knows to me," said Koume. "However, his Hylian is not what I came to speak about, for the content of his words concerns me." She paused to let the nature of her spontaneous visit dawn in Reshin's blue eyes. "You see, I thought I'd made myself clear when we first spoke: breaking any of the conditions I set for your stay will not end well for you. I know of many women who are very eager to have children…"

Reshin's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "Well, you see, Ralzana," he said, "his fascination with life outside the desert certainly preceded his enjoyment of the Hylian language. Every question he's asked me has pertained to where I grew up, all the places to which I've traveled, even the Hylian Royal Family. He's a rather intelligent young boy; I did not want to leave his curiosity unsatisfied."

"When we met you told me you knew very little about any and all political matters," Koume said, voice as steady as ever. "And yet Ganondorf tells me wonderful things about them."

She watched as Reshin shifted in his chair, clearly trying to pick his words carefully. "Only the facts," he said. "King Daphnes and his wife Merla have a son, a prince like Ganondorf, named Daltus. They rule over the mid-east land called Hyrule and they wish to expand their borders. Whether or not those borders include the Lanayru Desert will be up to you and the Ralzan when he comes of age."

Koume smiled, eyes glinting knowingly. While she realized that Reshin was telling the truth, that he'd only been telling Ganondorf the mere facts of the east, she also realized that he picked every word with intelligent precision. She was not unaware of Daphnes' attempts to strike a deal with the Goron settlement on Death Mountain, and his concealed scheme to overtake them by force if necessary. She even imagined Reshin knew how much of the Royal Family's strategy was apparent to her; the Gerudo were widely known as the masters of stealth and infiltration. She had a diplomatic ambassador in Castle Town as they spoke, as well as a secretive spy living within the city walls and gathering as much information as possible. Given the last report she'd read from her spy, Prince Daltus was just as set on expanding Hyrule's borders as his father was, meaning Ganondorf would have to handle the negotiations when the time came.

"Yes," Koume said. "Just the facts indeed. Now you also told me that you approach your studies with as secular a viewpoint as possible."

Reshin nodded.

"Why, then, has Ganondorf mentioned something called the Sacred Realm?"

Reshin visibly swallowed the lump in his throat. "There is…another thing," he said, fiddling with the ring wrapped around his finger. A simple gold band. "He's been talking about men…in his dreams. Figures that appear to him at night. He told me when we met that he'd never seen a man before in real life. If these apparitions truly are dreams, how would he know what a man looks like?"

Koume's brow twitched in response as she looked down at the open book on the table. _Desert Ancestry_. Several years back a priest of Aesis requested a visit to the Arbiter's Grounds in order to perform ancient rituals to the God of Death. She found the book inside, nearly destroyed by cobwebs and rough sand. It looked as if it had been left there the last time a priest visited, but no one seemed to know where it had come from.

"What does any of that have to do with the Sacred Realm?"

"Well, I've been reading up on how this might be," Reshin continued. "Perhaps the ghosts of the Haunted Wasteland have been appearing to Ganondorf—only appearing, so no need to be frightened. This could be the case if he were somehow sensitive to the Sacred Realm, or the misty world between ours and that of spirits…"

Koume had placed her palm firmly on the table, making Reshin stop. "The Gerudo do not believe in the Sacred Realm," she said. "Trust me when I tell you that if you ever bring your religious beliefs into your lessons with my son, I will ensure that you become one of the ghosts in my son's dreams."

Reshin's face grew even paler as he nodded. "Yes, Ralzana, do forgive me," he said. "But if I may… From what I've read in this text, the Gerudo believe in something akin to the Hylian Sacred Realm. A…a transitional realm where the dead pass in order to make it to the land of eternal rest. The Eternal Oasis, I believe you call it. Now there is another tradition reserved for the worsts of criminals, one where you bring them to the Arbiter's Grounds and leave them to live out the little time they have left gazing at their own reflection in a mirror. It is believed that this mirror will capture their spirit before it has a chance to pass through to the Eternal Oasis, leaving it in the transitional realm. The void. It is possible that someone with a connection, or a sensitivity to these other realms could encounter the spirits of those trapped in the void between them."

Koume's expression must have been quite stony, for Reshin ceased talking and hung his head slightly. "What does any of that mean, exactly?" she said.

Reshin looked at her again. "I'm not sure," he said. "But I think if you were to take Ganondorf to the Arbiter's Grounds, he'd be able to sense the trapped spirits of those killed there."

Koume was silent for a brief moment before she leaned forward, keeping her voice quiet as she spoke. "Listen to me very carefully. You are to stop treating the Ralzan like an experiment. You have extended permissions, more or less, but I will not have an outsider like yourself bring heresy into my home, let alone my son, the next Gerudo Ralzan."

Reshin swallowed. "I…"

"If I were you," Koume said, "I'd stick to my books. I get the sense you've got it in your head that you are a guest here." She stood, straightening her face sash. "Do not speak of this to my son."

She left before Reshin could speak another word. Ganondorf would be getting back from the bazaar for lunch by now. She had more important things to attend to.

As she made her way back down the corridor where Kotake was preparing her old bed chambers, her mind was on Reshin's words. Ganondorf had never told her about spirits in his dreams. Was Reshin truly becoming the father figure she'd intended him to be? The thought filled her heart with mixed emotions; of course she was glad her son had someone to turn to concerning his isolated gender, but the thought of him keeping trivial secrets from her… She shook the thoughts from her mind. She wanted to give them space, so that's what she would continue to do.

Koume lowered her face sash as she spotted Ganondorf running down the hall that connected her corridor to the central entrance. No doubt he was headed toward the dining chamber, expecting lunch to be prepared and ready for him. Then he would make his way to Reshin's apartment for his Hylian lesson, not a winkling of an idea his mother had finally given in to his plea for magic lessons.

"Ganondorf," Koume called, catching his attention before he turned toward the dining hall.

The young boy walked briskly toward her, thick red hair hanging loosely around his shoulders instead of being tied back. He'd started keeping it that way since he met Reshin, whose light hair was generally left untied. "What is it, Mother? I'm hungry."

"I know, my son." Koume leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. "I have something for you. Come with me; then you can go have lunch."

The prospect of a gift made Ganondorf's face light up. He followed Koume back down the corridor to Kotake's room.

After a momentary knock on the door, a guard let the Ralzana and prince into the room. Kotake was seated on a cushion by the balcony archway, letting the cool breeze lift her bird's nest of a head of crimson hair. She had her eyes closed, but opened them slowly with a smile as the two walked in. Koume noticed how many of the baubles and trinkets of gold or precious gems had already been replaced by wooden carvings of forest animals and crumbling, yellow knuckle bones.

"Ganondorf," said Koume gently, "this is Kotake, my sister." Kotake stood and approached him, walking as if she were doing so on water. She was not smiling, but did not look displeased either; she was unsure of how to approach the first male Gerudo anyone living had ever seen.

"You have a sister?" Ganondorf said, looking between the two of them. "I didn't know you had a sister." He kept glancing from one to the other, confusion settling his eyebrows.

"We're twins," Kotake said. She got to her knees to meet his eye level and grinned. "My, you really are…" She paused, glancing at Koume. "Do you know why I am here?"

Ganondorf shook his head.

"Kotake is a sorcerer," Koume said. Ganondorf looked at her, eyes widening. "She left the desert a long time ago to become one. I've asked her to teach you magic."

Ganondorf's eyebrows flew up in pure delight. "Really?" he said. When Koume nodded, he threw his arms around her, making her laugh.

"We're going to start immediately," Kotake said. "I hope that's all right with you."

Ganondorf let go of his mother and nodded vigorously. "Yes, Master Kotake."

Kotake laughed. "That's a bit too formal for me. Why don't you call me Mother Kotake?"

Ganondorf nodded. "Mother Kotake."

The sisters smiled. Koume hadn't been sure how Ganondorf would react to seeing another woman who looked exactly like his mother, although she imagined the prospect of magic lessons would help ease the situation. From the grin on Kotake's face, she assumed her sister was just as pleased.

"Why don't you go get something to eat," said Koume. "Then you'll have your lesson with Reshin."

"Why don't we get started after that?" Kotake asked.

"Yes! Although I need to go brush Wrana at some point," said Ganondorf. "She gets restless when I don't see her."

"Wrana is his horse," Koume said to her sister, who nodded.

"What is it with Dragmires and their pets?" Kotake said with a laugh. "What was our furnix's name?"

"I believe it was…Valamoora?"

Kotake nodded, and Ganondorf looked up. She winked.

The boy grinned, looking a little dazed. That never stopped him. "Thank you, Mother."

"Of course, my little prince," Koume said. "Off you go."

As he ran off to the dining hall, Kotake straightened and stood next to her sister, watching with a smile.

"I hope I'm not making a mistake," Koume said.

"Like I said, there were two of us. That's why Mother made us choose. Ganondorf will be Ralzan, the first in who knows how long. He shouldn't be held back by anything, especially not the woman who strived so hard to make her mother's fairytales come true."

Koume smiled lightly, then turned to her sister, taking her hands. "Thank you again for agreeing to stay," she said. "I really have missed my other half."

After a terse moment between the two of them, one of the many they used to share, Kotake grinned. "Who knows? Maybe being surrounded by sorcerers will spark the flames within you once more."

"That life is behind me, Kotake. I made my decision and will not dishonor Mother's memory by going back on it."

Kotake shrugged. "We'll see." She danced over to the cushion on which she'd been meditating and sat back down. "I think the Twinrova is still in you."

Koume wrung her hands anxiously, eager to change the subject, but not too keen on the one she'd chosen. "May I ask you a question?"

Kotake opened one eye and nodded.

"Do you believe in the legend? The centuries-old prophecy that the Ralzan will be the most powerful man alive and lead his people to a Golden Age of prosperity?"

Kotake sighed. "You know I never cared for fancy words about prophecy and myth. That was always your weakness. Besides, even curses fade. It could be that Ganondorf is simply a signifier of the end of an era for our people."

"What about destiny?"

Kotake looked at her sister now, cool eyes contemplating. "What do you mean?"

"I mean how any man born to the Gerudo will be of royal blood," said Koume. "I mean the stories of Ganon and how it was his destiny to overcome the beast and change the course of Gerudo history. What if that name is Ganon's…destiny?"

"His name isn't Ganon," Kotake pointed out. "It's Ganondorf. A little silly, don't you think? What kind of name is Ganondorf?"

"It's after Mother."

"Then why not name him Dorfinon? You know, a traditional Gerudo name? Why did you choose Ganon?"

Koume chewed her lip. "It just came to him, I suppose."

"That's why you're asking me about destiny? Because of his name?"

"No," Koume said shortly. She sighed. "Never mind it all. I'll leave you to…whatever it is you're doing."

"Koume. What are you talking about?"

Koume shook her head. "It's nothing. I'll be back with Ganondorf after his Hylian lesson."

She turned and left the room, sighing to herself. What in Tama's name was she thinking? If she was going to keep it from Kotake—the secret that she wasn't Ganondorf's true mother, that he was miraculously born with no father to speak of—she'd have to be more careful about it. Of course, something told her Kotake would find out eventually, but she had to make sure it wouldn't reach Ganondorf.

She could feel Kotake's icy suspicion even as she entered the dining hall.


	9. Awakening III

The sound of a feather pen tapping ceaselessly against the wooden table's surface annoyed Reshin—Ganondorf could tell. He stopped, looking up at his Hylian teacher, wondering why the man hadn't said anything while glaring at the feather bobbing up and down, the ink-soaked tip leaving miniscule marks across the blank parchment. He suspected his mother's influence on Reshin's behavior was stopping him from saying anything that could possibly displease the young Ralzan.

The light-skinned man heaved a deep sigh, resting his padded elbows on the table. He always dressed oddly, with skin-covering wool cloth and some sort of thick belt across his waist. It was nothing like the half-naked women dancing their way across the city beneath the sweltering sunlight. Ganondorf shifted his weight in the chair so that he, too, could rest his elbows on the table.

"Do you know what it says?" Reshin said, sounding tired.

"…Thank you…for your generosity." The Hylian words were thick and heavy as Ganondorf spoke. He could hear his own voice, lathered in the accent of a "desert dweller," clunky when compared to the elegance of Reshin's voice whenever he spoke in Hylian.

"Good," said Reshin, in Hylian before switching back to Gerudo. "You certainly have 'thank you' down."

Ganondorf shifted again in his chair, unable to keep still. He didn't want to seem rude, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Reshin seemed to take notice; he looked at Ganondorf with a knowing smile. "Do you know what today is, in my culture? In the east?"

Ganondorf shook his head.

"It's the 31st of Ensia's Gift. The last day of the last month in the year. Tonight, many Hylians all over the land will celebrate the death of another year as it is reborn into a new one. The gift of time passing, bringing new life." The man stopped, peering down at Ganondorf through the thick lenses of his glasses. "Do you know who Ensia is?"

Ganondorf remained silent. He knew that Mother Koume didn't want Reshin telling him anything about Hylian religion, or most of Hylian culture. But he was curious and wanted to know everything.

"Ensia, in Hylian religion, is the minor goddess of the soul, of rites of passage and gateways. Nayru governs time, but it is Ensia who allows it to flow from one year to the next. That's why this month is called Ensia's Gift." Reshin smiled. "Many believe we Hylians got the concept from certain 'desert dwellers' who worship a Sand Goddess. Flowing sand often symbolizes the passage of time."

"You mean Ensia is Tama?" Ganondorf said.

Reshin laughed. "I think so, yes. Many of the more conservative Hylians would claim the opposite. Even though your belief system was set in place far before ours."

Ganondorf gazed at Reshin, mildly confused. He'd never spoken so sincerely before. It was as if the day he was talking about, the 31st of Ensia's Gift, was something much more than a mere holiday.

Reshin shifted in his chair, folding his hands together disquietedly. "Ah, your mother will certainly be displeased if she knew I told you all of this. You will keep your mouth shut, won't you?"

Ganondorf smiled. "Of course, Master."

"Good. I'd hate to see you give up on Hylian because your Mother got rid of me."

"I won't let her."

Reshin laughed. "That's good to hear."

Ganondorf relaxed a little, letting his shoulders roll. "Are we finished?"

Reshin chuckled. "I know, I know, you want to go to your magic lesson, don't you?"

Ganondorf looked away, but couldn't help grinning. He was growing slightly fond of his Hylian lessons, but he'd always look forward to magic lessons with Mother Kotake.

"Why don't we go over some sorcery words then, so you can impress Kotake?" Reshin took up his quill and wrote a few blocks of Hylian letters on the parchment.

Ganondorf sat up, watching in curiosity. He made out a few characters, sounding them out in his head, rolling the words around on his tongue before saying them out loud: "Spell… book… incan…incantation."

"Wonderful. But do you know what they mean?"

Ganondorf shook his head.

As Reshin explained, the young Gerudo boy felt blood rushing in his ears. Mother Kotake had told him that it was the magic, the energy that came from the very ground beneath them, pulsing through his body. He was an extension of the earth, from which all magic came, and it made his blood rush.

"Incantation," Ganondorf said again, deliberately so that he could master the inflections.

Reshin nodded. "Whenever you read a spell with the intentions of casting, it is called"—he switched to Hylian—"an incantation."

Ganondorf grinned again. "Thank you, Master Reshin."

"You're very welcome," said the Hylian. He folded the parchment and placed his quill into the inkwell. "Go on, we're finished for the day."

Ganondorf got up and nodded politely to his teacher. He gathered up his books and turned to leave.

Mother Kotake was waiting in the anteroom to the palace bedroom suites. Her hair was atop her head as usual, sticks and twigs keeping it together. Ganondorf remembered Reshin's explanation of birds and how they create nests; he'd wondered if they looked anything like Kotake's hair. The little prince danced over to her, skipping with eager anticipation. What would she have in store for him today?

"Good afternoon, little Ralzan," Mother Kotake said, grinning at him with a hand on her hip. "How was your lesson with Reshin?"

"Very good, Mother," Ganondorf said. He handed his books to Meira, who had come by to collect them. "Are we going outside today? Finally?"

Kotake laughed. "Always so eager to ditch the books and get to practical methods, aren't we? Well today you're in luck. But you knew that already, didn't you?"

Ganondorf grinned. He'd had a feeling. Kotake turned and headed down the corridor, Ganondorf close behind.

"May I ask you something?" the young boy said.

Kotake glanced down at him. "Of course."

"When you were outside the desert, did you learn a lot about Hylian religion?"

Kotake stopped, turning to face him. She turned her gaze to either end of the hall before looking back at him. "Has Reshin been feeding you propaganda?"

While Ganondorf didn't quite know what "propaganda" meant, he assumed it wasn't good by Kotake's tone.

"No," he said. "He won't tell me much, but I want to know."

Kotake folded her arms. "Well what _has_ he told you?"

"Nothing, really. I promise. Only today…" Ganondorf bit his lip. He wondered if he could take it back, but Kotake's insistent gaze told him that wouldn't be possible. "He said today's is the last day of the Hylian year."

Kotake's cool expression warmed into a grin. "Ah, I see." She laughed. "He really is quite intelligent." She turned to walk again, motioning for Ganondorf to follow. "The eve of the Hylian new year is a very special one. Not for Hylians—for mages."

"Mages?"

"Sorcerers who will only use their skills for healing or divination. Now the 31st of Ensia's Gift falls on the winter solstice, the coldest and shortest day of the year. Each culture and religion will give you different reasons for why it happens, but tonight the sun will set earlier than ever."

"It doesn't feel very cold to me," Ganondorf said. They were nearing the palace entrance and he felt the warm breeze filter in through the windows.

"That's because we're in the desert," said Kotake. "Winter only gets so cold here. Right now the mainland is covered in snow."

Ganondorf's head was spinning. "Snow?"

"It's like rain, only frozen."

Ganondorf's face contorted in a horrified expression. "Wouldn't that hurt?"

Kotake laughed. "You would think so, wouldn't you? No, the flakes are small and light enough that they fall like volcanic ash and cover the countryside in a blanket of white." Her expression turned somewhat gentle. "I do like the snow."

"What does that have to do with the mages?"

"Well when it snows, the trees die. Everything dies, in fact. Forest animals burrow underground in order to survive, waiting for the snow to melt and the grass to grow green again. Strangely enough, as the life is drawn from every living thing in the land, the pulse of magic grows stronger, seeping from the very ground like blood." Kotake smirked. "On the longest night of the year, when Hylians celebrate its passing, sorcerers of all cultures will sit in stone circles and bathe in the magic produced by the earth."

"Is that why we're going outside today?"

Kotake's smile turned sad. "Unfortunately, no," she said. "There is no greenery in the desert for the earth to absorb. The magic pulses a little less here."

Ganondorf looked out the window, felt the warm breeze on his skin. The sun was shining bright as ever, and for the first time the thought settled in his heart a little heavily. That must have been why Mother Kotake left the desert to become a sorcerer. She couldn't fully learn her craft here. Neither could he.

"Reshin probably put the question in your mind so that you'd ask me," Kotake said, perceptive smile returning. "He's not allowed to speak of such things to you, but I am."

Ganondorf was only vaguely listening. He kept thinking about snow. The desert barely got any rain, let alone snow. He'd read about the mountains just to the north of the desert, though, where a tribe called the Anouki lived. They had to wear thick fur coats made from wolves and bears. He realized now that the white tops of the mountains where they lived must have been snow.

Suddenly Ganondorf's chest hurt. It wasn't an entirely physical feeling, he could tell. Something in him felt off.

He and Kotake stepped out of the palace and into the courtyard. To the right was the palace oasis where the only trees for miles grew. Giant palms swayed lightly in the breeze that blew in from the western ocean. Ganondorf had never thoughts about these magical pulses that Mother Kotake spoke about and how it was all affected by the earth. For some reason it all seemed so obvious now.

"Put all of that out of your mind now, little prince," said Kotake. They'd stopped right by the entrance to the courtyard where the path on the left twisted its way toward the stables. "It's always good to hone in the magic from the earth around you, but you're still quite the novice. Why don't we go where it all started?"

Ganondorf looked up at her. She grinned, nodded toward the left path. He felt the jump in his heart return. He hadn't said anything to anyone, not Koume nor Kotake, about the strange woman who'd approached him with a Hylian spell book. But he knew from the spark in Kotake's golden eyes what had truly happened.

They wove their way down the dirt path until the smell of the stables was thick in their noses. Ganondorf felt a skip in his step as he realized they were going to see Wrana—he was sure that Kotake knew even better than Nabooru that the black mare was the only thing he felt remotely protective of.

"Are you going to teach me to ride Wrana?" he asked.

Mother Kotake laughed gently. "No, little prince. A horseman will help you with that once you're big enough."

They entered the stable and strode right down the aisle until Ganondorf could ease Wrana's whinnying with the palm of his hand on her flank. Her ochre eyes stopped rolling as he pressed a hand to her nose, rubbing softly.

"If I remember correctly," Mother Kotake said, folding her arms again, "you told me something about your horse's coloration not long ago."

Ganondorf looked up at her, still petting Wrana. "I don't remember."

"Think."

Ganondorf thought. "I only remember asking you if there were other colors of horses. We've only got black, brown, and gray ones."

"And as a sorcerer, you'll learn that those kinds of questions are rather pointless," said Kotake. She examined an oat between her fingers with an air of boredom. "As a sorcerer, you can answer those questions yourself by making the impossible simply improbable."

Ganondorf looked at Wrana. Her coat was black as night, as the stone from which the statue of Aesis was carved. He'd always found it rather dull.

"I can change her colors?" he said.

Kotake said nothing more as she handed him the spell book given to him by Valamoora—he realized now it was Kotake's all along. He unclasped the metal lock and flipped through the pages. The letters looked less foreign now, as he understood Hylian more. He continued leafing through until the word "color" appeared on the page. It was a spell called "Colors of Din."

"What's _Din_?"

"Another Hylian goddess," Kotake said. "She is the mother of the red earth and of the fire that burns beneath it."

Red. Ganondorf liked red.

Without reading the rest of the page—simply because he couldn't—Ganondorf began sounding out the words. He was confident in the characters, able to read them without understanding what they meant. He recited the whole thing—the _incantation_ —until there were no more words to speak.

Nothing happened. Ganondorf looked up at Mother Kotake, who was smiling her sly smile.

"Words are the foundation of most cultures," she said. "They are powerful when spoken with the purest of intentions, even if they are double-edged, secret, sarcastic. A spell will do nothing until you know what it is you are saying."

Ganondorf looked at the words he'd just said, then at Wrana. He felt mildly tricked; Mother Kotake said they'd be practicing magic outside, not learning cruel lessons about the power of words and intentions. He opened his mouth and began to recite them again, closing his eyes to better concentrate through Mother Kotake's continued talking about how it wouldn't work. He focused on what he thought the words meant, not translating them, but not thinking in Hylian either. He simply poured his concentration into what he wanted to happen: to see the colors of Din.

In a blast that sent the book flying out of Ganondorf's hands, Wrana's mane and tail suddenly erupted into flames. The horse's eyes widened in fear as she kicked and bucked against the wooden stall, neighing ferociously. Ganondorf heard stable hands screaming, shouting at each other to grab pails of water. He vaguely saw Mother Kotake out of the corner of his eye moving her hands through the air in front of her, eyes cooling over in a gentle white glow. He felt a wide sense of horror as he watched his precious horse cry out in fear, yet all he could do was grin involuntarily as the red and orange flames warmed his skin, turned his eyes as red as his hair.

He'd done it. And it felt like the earth beneath his feet were rumbling with the power he now knew he held in his fingertips.

A splash of water that seemed to come from nowhere doused the flames before his eyes. Red turned to black in a matter of seconds. Ganondorf looked at Mother Kotake, whose eyes had gone back to normal. Wrana was still snorting and stomping in fear, but the flames didn't seem to have harmed her in any way. Kotake ran her hands along the horse's body where they'd burned moments ago, and Ganondorf was made by some unseen force to take a step back.

She was beautiful. Her flank and legs were still black as the night, but her mane and tail had burned into the rich, passionate colors of the fire that had consumed them.

Ganondorf couldn't look away. That is until Mother Kotake grabbed his wrist and forced his eyes her way.

"What did you do? How did you do that?"

Ganondorf looked back at his horse, eyes wide and a slight smile on his face. "I cast the spell, didn't I?"

"I don't know what you did, but that isn't what usually happens," Kotake said. She let go of his wrist with a harsh flick, turning and running into the aisle where the stable hands were watching in sublime awe. "Go back to your duties," Kotake said. They all retreated to the other horses' stalls, calming their unease with hushed words of comfort and brushes to their backs.

Mother Kotake turned back to Ganondorf with an expression mixed with anger, pride, and a little envy. "Tell me what happened."

"I cast the spell," said Ganondorf.

"That's not what happened. Tell me what went through your mind as you said those words."

Ganondorf looked down at the book that had been flung from his outstretched palms. "I thought about fire."

" _Why_ did you think about _fire_?" She did not sound pleased.

"You said Din is the goddess of fire."

Mother Kotake rested a hand on her forehead. Just like Mother Koume, Ganondorf thought. Her hand then went to her waist again as she looked down at him curiously.

"So you simply thought about fire, and then turned your horse's fur red?"

Ganondorf looked at Wrana. She had sufficiently calmed down now, but she was shaking her head and tail as if to get pesky flies away from them. Ash fell away in soft clumps. He nodded.

Kotake sighed. "Well for the future, there are simpler, less dangerous ways to change something's color," she said. "This is exactly why your mother was hesitant about training you in sorcery." After a moment, she grinned. So did Ganondorf. "It is also exactly why I decided to train you."

Ganondorf felt his chest inflate with pride and the buzzing feeling of magic coursing through his veins. Suddenly he asked, "How did you know?"

Kotake turned an inquisitive look on him. "How did I know what?"

"When you first came to me in the stables, you knew I was interested in sorcery," said Ganondorf. "I hadn't told anyone that, not even Nabooru."

Kotake's head lifted in a slight gesture of something Ganondorf hadn't quite seen from another before. He contentedly decided it was respect.

"Sorcerers have a way of knowing these things," she said. "When you are more powerful, so will you." She paused, clearly thinking over the words she was about to say. "I don't know of many sorcerers who could manipulate magic on their first try. Clearly I was not wrong about you."

Ganondorf smiled.

"Let's go," said Mother Kotake. "I don't want your mother finding out about this little incident."

"What about my lesson?"

"I wasn't expecting quite a show here. We'll continue inside."

And then Ganondorf felt his chest deflate in dismay. While he enjoyed Mother Kotake's company, she had a way of crushing his wishes without a bat of her eyelashes. The tall woman turned to leave the stables, not even looking back to see if Ganondorf was following. He cast a long look at Wrana, dazzling flares of red and orange making him grin to himself. He then followed Mother Kotake back toward the palace.

As the reentered the same way they came in, Ganondorf asked, "How did you do it?"

"Ganon, you have a habit of asking questions that require firsthand explanation."

"How did you change yourself to look like someone else?"

Kotake looked at him. "You know, I wasn't sure if you'd caught on," she said. "I suppose I've greatly underestimated my new son. Again, these are things that will come naturally to you when you've accrued more power."

Ganondorf trotted alongside her, barely paying attention to where they were headed. He was in his thoughts, rather pleased with himself and the fact that someday he'd be powerful enough to mask his identity, turn himself into a completely different person like Mother Kotake had. He thought of all the pranks he could pull on Nabooru, pretending to be her mother and scolding her when she teased him. The thought put a smile on his face.

Then he noticed where they were going: not his usual study room, but the small pavilion that overlooked the oasis on the ground floor. For a moment he felt crestfallen, like he'd been cheated out of a magic lesson. Then he saw Mother Koume seated in a large cushioned chair, a headdress of gold and blue jewels resting atop her fiery curls. As they entered the pavilion, Ganondorf then saw Rumalia with her short hair and rigid posture, and Meira with the exact opposite build from years of eating too well, wearing nice dresses that befit neither of them; and to his surprise, Reshin. The Hylian man sat awkwardly by Mother Koume with a gentle smile on his face; it was quickly apparent to Ganondorf that he was not certain why he was there.

Kotake turned to Ganondorf once everyone had mumbled a quiet hello. "We have some things for you." She smiled.

Ganondorf's frustration at this gathering clearly not being a magic lesson evaporated into a wide grin. "Really?"

Kotake nodded and sat down on one of the vacant chairs beside Koume. Ganondorf looked around, searching for the pile of boxes wrapped in ornate, colorful parchment paper. When he saw nothing, he looked back at Kotake, a look of concern on his face.

The sorcerer laughed. "Come over here, Ganondorf."

The young Ralzan obliged, walking over curiously. Kotake then waved her hand in the air, eyes turning misty as they had before in the stables, and conjured up a small wooden box. As it levitated in the air, she pushed it toward him and it floated gently into his outstretched palms. While Ganondorf secretly hoped the box itself wasn't the gift, he ran a delicate finger over the flowering carvings along the edges.

"It's very pretty," he said.

"Open it."

He lifted the hinged lid to the box. Inside was a long leather string with a gold-wrapped amber pendant attached to it. Dangling from the bottom of the pendant was a small tassel of what looked like red-and-orange hair of some kind. It was too thick and coarse to be human hair. Ganondorf held it up in the light that filtered in through the open walls of the pavilion, and he grinned.

"This is your totem," said Mother Kotake. "An emblem of your power and the magical core of your abilities. Every sorcerer has one." She then reached down to the necklace around her neck, lifting a medium-sized bird skull that was adorned with red feathers on either side. "It must be an item that holds incredible significance to you. Usually they're parts of an animal you hold dear."

Ganondorf saw Mother Koume look down at her hands folded in her lap. He immediately knew that the bird skull was once a furnix named Valamoora.

He looked at the pendant and the fiery hair that brushed against the dark skin of his hand.

"Is that why you wanted to see Wrana today?" he said, looking up at Kotake.

The sorcerer smiled, leaning back in her seat. "He catches on quick."

Ganondorf lifted the necklace and hung it around his neck, holding the pendant and brushing a finger through Wrana's hair. "Thank you," he said.

Rumalia leaned down to pick up a long wooden box resting beneath her chair. "Unlike your aunt, I cannot magic things into existence," she said in her usual unimpressed tone of voice. She rested the box, almost three feet in length and only six inches wide, on her lap as Ganondorf approached. "I want to stress that my gift to you is not one to be played with, and you may not even be able to use it until you are much older."

Ganondorf made a slight face, but then shrugged. He could tell by the shape of the box what it was, and Rumalia was already a strict teacher. The short-haired woman undid the golden latches on both ends of the box and opened it, revealing a silver, curved sword. It was engraved along the blade with faint etchings of curving patterns and the Gerudo flag symbol. The hilt and handle were a deep brown with gold filigree ornamentation. It was truly a beautiful sword.

The young Ralzan began reaching forward to lift it when Rumalia's hand snapped out and stopped him.

"Careful," she said.

Ganondorf nodded and placed his hand on the hilt. He curled his fingers around the handle and lifted the sword from the case. At first he was worried at how heavy it was—nothing like the wooden training swords he and Nabooru had been using. But he grit his teeth and lifted it, feeling the weight of the blade in the handle. The weight itself was enough to fill his chest with the same kind of power he felt when he turned Wrana's mane and tail to fire.

"This will be your weapon when we move to real steel training," said Rumalia. She smiled. "Commissioned for the future Ralzan."

"Thank you," said Ganondorf. He gently lay the sword back down in the case and Rumalia closed the lid.

Ganondorf turned to Mother Koume, an excited smile on his face.

The Ralzana laughed. "Come here, my son."

The boy ran over to her and gazed around with anticipation. Mother Koume's gifts were always the best.

After a moment, Koume waved a hand at some unseen servants waiting by the door. Ganondorf spun around on his heels to see them bring in a large wooden crate with several slats in the sides. The crate whined and twitched from an invisible force inside, and Ganondorf felt exhilaration bubble in his torso.

The servants placed the crate on the floor in the middle of the group and took several steps back. Ganondorf looked at Koume, who nodded eagerly. He then turned back and approached the crate cautiously.

Suddenly the box lurched and a howl sounded from within. It only made Ganondorf grin as he knelt by one of the slats, peering inside. A bright green eye met his golden one and the crying stopped.

"What is it?" Ganondorf said.

"It's a warhound," said Koume. "They're very common among the Oburin wastelands and are given as gifts to the most powerful of civilizations. I procured one for you in exchange for alliance with the Oburin clans."

Ganondorf hadn't heard much about the Oburin wastelands, but he had seen drawings of the warhounds. They reminded him of Aesis' strong, powerful body and ominous eyes.

"She'll need a name," said Koume.

Ganondorf watched the hound's green eye blink as it watched him carefully, examining him as he examined it. He then looked at Reshin. The Hylian man was watching intently as the crate seemed to breathe. Ganondorf thought he looked a bit frightened, as if he wanted nothing more than to leave the little gathering and get back to his books. The young prince's mind went to his lesson this morning, to the conversation he'd had with Mother Kotake a few hours ago.

Ganondorf looked back at the green eye and smiled. "Ensia."

The room sizzled around him.

When Ganondorf turned back around Kotake had raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised at his choice. He looked at Rumalia, who merely watched him with a dazed look of concern on her face. And then he saw his mother, whose eyes had turned on Reshin. He could feel the heat coming off her dark skin as she glared at the Hylian.

"What have you done?" she said, surprisingly cool voice out of place with her expression.

Reshin's eyes were as wide as Kotake's. "I… I didn't…"

Koume stood abruptly, scepter still in her hand and turning her knuckles white. "My son chooses the name of a Hylian goddess and you expect me not to suspect you had a hand in this?"

"Ralzana, I didn't mean to… It wasn't my intention—"

"I've had enough of your excuses. Now I have to decide whether or not to throw your hide to the Arbiter."

"Mother, wait."

All eyes turned to Ganondorf as he got to his feet, resting a hand on the top of the crate.

"I need to learn Hylian," he said. "You said so yourself. Why shouldn't I also learn about Hylian culture?"

Koume appeared unsure of how to respond to her son while keeping her authority over the situation. "It's not that I don't want you learning about western culture," she said. "I don't want you favoring it."

Ganondorf stared at her through his golden eyes. Sometimes he thought his eyes were the only similarity between himself and his mother. The way she spoke to him, as if she were frightened of angering him… He couldn't help feel like she was always tiptoeing through the sand around him.

"I could never favor a land that is not my home," he said.

After a moment, Kotake spoke: "Perhaps he's right. A knowledgeable Ralzan should be educated in all cultures, especially that of the people who are trying to expand their reign into an empire."

Koume sighed. She looked at Reshin, whose face was perspiring quite heavily. He shared a look with Ganondorf, who mentally reassured him that he wouldn't let his mother do away with him.

"All right," said Koume. She sat back down. "All right."

"Thank you, Mother," Ganondorf said. He turned to peer into the slat as the warhound moved to scratch behind her ear. "Hello, Ensia."

He heard Koume speak, a resigned smile in her voice. "Happy birthday, Ganondorf."


End file.
